


moontide theory

by anathemis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Evil Albus Dumbledore, Gen, Graphic Description, Harry Potter is Suicidal, Harry Potter is tired, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Morally Grey Harry Potter, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sane Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Sane Tom Riddle, Self-Harm, Self-Harming Harry Potter, Suicidal Harry Potter, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, Weasley Family Bashing (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 51,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23505130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anathemis/pseuds/anathemis
Summary: Harry Potter has given up - on the war, the Light side and his will to live. In a moment of desperation to be released from this Hell on Earth, he asks Voldemort to kill him, hands himself over, in an attempt to get it all to stop.Consequently, he fails at that, too.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Tom Riddle
Comments: 97
Kudos: 407
Collections: Started stories





	1. chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Moontide Theory](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28988631) by [sigyqti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sigyqti/pseuds/sigyqti)



> this idea came to me at precisely 2:43am and this came of it. i intend to keep publishing chapters but what with quarantine and the recent global pandemic, i'm not sure when i'd find time, between my daily walks to the kitchen and staring out of the window. i guess we'll have to see. 
> 
> TW: harry is pretty suicidal and depressed in this story. it'll be more graphic later on but even in this first chapter, it could get pretty heavy. i don't even know if this is good. it hasn't been beta'd or anything so, enjoy :)
> 
> title from the song, 'Moontide Theory' - Neroche.

Harry sighed, rolling over in his bed - if it could even be called that - and thought about the events of his previous year at Hogwarts, from Umbridge and forming the DA to losing his godfather and friends in a mere few months. How could it all go wrong, so quickly? To make matters worse, he'd been carted off, back to the Dursley's, for another fun-filled summer in the whims of their cruel hands. Surprisingly, it was the calmest he'd had yet, save for the fact he was fed meager scraps once a day and was allowed out of his room twice a day (once in the morning and once in the evening) for his ablutions. To be fair, he hadn't been bothered much more than that, not that it would've mattered.

Harry was tired. He was exhausted, in fact. He had nothing left of interest on this Earth anymore, no family, no friends, no will to live. His body was giving up and his mind was shutting off, he could feel it, although that was the only thing he could feel. Not even the usual pangs of hunger broke through his utter lack of happiness, even if most of his food went towards Hedwig, currently locked in her cage in the corner of the room. He would rather himself die of starvation before Hedwig. He wanted to die, full stop.

Once a week, Vernon Dursley, in all of his glory, unlocked his door and bustled through - just barely - dropping a scrap of paper and a pencil in Harry's lap, watching with his beady eyes as Harry wrote a simple few words to the Order to let them know he was still alive and being treated well. Then, like the loving uncle he was, he unlocked Hedwig's cage, non too gentle, and Harry gave her the paper to take to the Order, watching as she disappeared into the distance. He didn't even envy her freedom anymore.

Days turned into weeks and yet every moment blurred together for Harry. Most of his time was spent lay on his back, eyes either focused on an empty stare at the ceiling or closed, twitching in REM sleep, reliving his worst nightmares, again and again, though eventually, even those stopped and soon he stopped sleeping altogether.

Around mid-summer, not that Harry was able to keep track, he sat up in his bed and went over to his window, looking out into the distance. His body ached with every movement. An idea had been brewing for hours but he was unsure if he should go through with it. Should he? Could he really do that? Would it be possible? It would end his suffering, he was 100% certain of that. Mind made up, he turned around and reached under his bed, pulling up a loose floorboard and grabbing a small notepad and pencil he'd left behind a few years ago. Never did he think he would be doing something like this with it, however.

Knowing Hedwig would be back from her weekly trip to the Order soon, he scribbled out a message;

_**Voldemort,** _

_**I am tired. I don't want to fight this war anymore. I just want it all to stop. You can do anything you want to me, kill me or whatever, I don't care anymore. I no longer want to be the Light's puppet, nor your enemy. I hold no real anger against you. I can't miss my parents when I've never even met them.** _

_**To bypass the wards, you must know that I live at 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. There could be an Auror outside on watch - do what you will with them.** _

_**Harry Potter** _

With that done, he stood by his window and soon saw Hedwig returning, with, of course, no letter in her talons. Not even feeling hurt by it anymore, he simply opened the window and stood back, allowing her to hop onto his windowsill.

"Hey girl, I'm sorry but I need you to deliver another letter. You need to leave before Vernon gets back," he croaked, throat dry from unuse. Hedwig merely hooted and butted her head into his hand, accepting the affection. He tied the paper to her leg and allowed her to drink for a moment from his water cup before taking her back near the window. "Please take this to Lord Voldemort. I don't know where he is but I'm sure you do."

Harry was still baffled by the ability that owls had to always find the recipient of the letter but learned to stop marveling at the wonders of magic over the years.

Hedwig hooted again, seemingly resistant against leaving. "Just go, Hedwig, before he gets back, please!" At his insistent tone, Hedwig finally turned and flew out of the window, in some random direction.

Harry sighed when she left, knowing in his heart that he'd done the right thing. This way, he wouldn't be a burden anymore. He would no longer get people killed or put his friends in danger. He would no longer fail everyone's expectations, no longer need to pretend that he cared about a war that he really didn't have any place being a part of. He would finally be free.

Now it was just a waiting game. Hedwig was a fast flyer, so it wouldn't take her long to reach Voldemort.

He slumped back onto his bed, knowing that his release was soon arriving. Dare he say, he was even excited.

With that, he drifted off into some form sleep, for the first time in days.

-x-

When Harry awoke again, he knew something was different. He could feel it in the air, the way it was oppressive and yet all too familiar. Voldemort was here.

His suspicions were confirmed when he opened his eyes and looked towards the wooden chair in the corner of the room. There sat the Dark Lord Voldemort, in all of his beauty and grace, though he looked distinctively different than usual. Gone were the snake nose slits and the pallid grey skin and lack of any human features, really. In its place, a young and aristocratic man sat, with brown wavy hair and piercing red eyes. He wore black robes of obviously high quality, but nothing too distinctive. Tom Marvolo Riddle, Harry thought, somewhere in the back of his mind. He was really quite handsome, not that he would admit that out loud.

He looked very relaxed, nonplussed, almost insouciant.

"Why am I still alive?" Harry asked, ignoring his sore throat. He really should've drunk something earlier.

At this, Voldemort smirked, eyes never leaving Harry's. He looked every bit of the Dark Lord he was.

"Because I want you to be," he replied, voice dark and as seductive as Harry expected it to be. "Tell me, Harry, why am I here?"

At this, Harry's brows furrowed and he threw his legs over the side of the bed, facing his supposed enemy head-on. "Didn't you read the letter?"

Voldemort rolled his eyes, sighing. "Of course I did, you imbecile."

"Then you already know why you're here," Harry said, as dry as he could.

Instantly, Voldemort's wand was turned on him and the curse left his lips before Harry could dodge it. Harry was soon keeled over, pain wracking his entire body, every nerve lit on fire. As quick as it was cast, it was over and Harry was left panting, hands gripping the edge of the mattress tightly.

"Don't be insolent, Harry. Now tell me, why am I here? I want to hear you say it."

Harry regained his breath, sitting up again, debating whether or not to continue being a brat but decided against it. His body probably couldn't take much more Crucio's before it entirely gave up.

"I want you to kill me." Harry had never really considered himself to be suicidal before but uttering those words to the one wizard in the world that wanted him dead more than anything was more than enough to get him shoved into St. Mungo's for the rest of his sad life. He'd be trading one prison for another.

"Why?" The reply came pretty quickly.

Harry sighed, looking down at his trembling hands. "I am tired, Voldemort. I'm so tired. I don't care anymore about anyone or anything. I'm giving up, offering myself on a platter to you. I don't want to be a puppet for the Light anymore, trying my damned hardest to live up to their expectations and failing again and again. I've disappointed everyone. I'm just a burden, not fit for their standards. I don't care anymore. I just get people killed or hurt and I'm so tired of it."

Silence reigned after his little rant, which neither of them broke.

Voldemort finally stood from the chair, walking over to the window and looking out. It was going dark outside, it seemed. A summer night's chill was settling over Surrey. He turned to Harry slightly, his face merely curious.

"And what of your friends? Dumbledore? Hogwarts?" He said it with clear disgust in his voice but truly did seem to want to know the answer.

"My friends were almost killed by my actions in the Ministry and regardless of that, they hate me now. They told me as much before we left Hogwarts. They want nothing to do with me anymore. Dumbledore will probably miss his little weapon but I don't care. I'm sick of bending to his will, of being chucked back into this hellhole every summer. And as for Hogwarts... well, I'll miss it, but that doesn't matter."

The more Harry spoke, the more interested Voldemort looked.

"Little weapon, you say?"

"I've been manipulated by Dumbledore for 5 years. He's been shaping me into a pliant little soldier ever since he first laid eyes on me, and now, with this prophecy, he's made it my life's mission to kill you. I'm 15 years old, Voldemort. What hope do I have winning against you?"

At this, Voldemort chuckled, although humorless, and turned to face Harry fully.

"Will you please kill me now?" Harry's voice took on a tone of desperation and he was near to begging. Why didn't he instantly kill Harry as soon as he got here? That's been his want for the last 15 years, has it not? And with the prophecy hanging in the air, surely he'd want Harry dead as quickly as he could get his hands on him.

Voldemort finally raised his wand, slowly and anticipatorily. "Are you afraid of dying, Harry Potter?" He whispered, dark, taunting.

"Never," Harry replied in the same volume, eyes widening at the sight of the wand. Was this really happening? Would he finally die?

At this, Voldemort grinned, sadistic, before reaching out with a hand, gripping Harry by the shoulder.

Before Harry could question his actions, his vision darkened and the bed underneath him dropped away. Did Voldemort finally kill him? Why didn't he see the flash of Avada Kedavra green beforehand?

The next he knew, he was face planting the ground, wind whipping around him, cold and unfeeling. He sat up from the floor, looking up at Voldemort stood next to him. Must've been Apparition, Harry thought, sullenly, swallowing to bile threatening to come out of his throat.

In front of them stood a tall manor, impressively intimidating and utterly beautiful. Where were they?

"Welcome, Harry, to Riddle Manor."

 _Oh,_ Harry thought, dropping his head in his hands. That's where they were. Oh.


	2. chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i lied. i found the motivation to continue this one, especially considering harry is pretty depressed in this story and i vibe with that right now. quarantine has got me thinking about the pill cupboard a little much.. anyway, here y'all go, unBeta'ed, as per the usual, so spot the mistakes!! yay! alright, bye.
> 
> (slight slight SLIGHT trigger warning for a subtle mention of self harm. not so bad in this chap but it'll get heavier.)

Harry woke sluggishly, sleep making his eyes tacky and his mind foggy. He rubbed at his eyes with one hand absent-mindedly, sitting up and tossing the duvet to the side, reaching for his glasses. Once he slipped them on, he looked around the room, eyes blinking owlishly. The bed he was currently sat on was made of dark oak with black silk sheets and the furniture around the room was made of the same set, clearly. In one corner sat a dark oak desk and chair with a tall wardrobe in the other corner. In the middle, directly across from the bed, was a door, though clearly not the entrance to the room as that was to Harry's right, with a small dresser and window to his left. The walls were dark mahogany or maroon, an educated guess for a teenage boy with little knowledge of decorating manors, and has a lush black carpet. It looked very pretty, but modest nevertheless. Harry took all of this in slowly, giving his poor mind time to wake up. The lack of food and water probably didn't help. He remembered the events of yesterday distinctly, down to waking up to see Voldemort in the chair across from him and being Apparated away to Riddle Manor.

-x-

As soon as they'd arrived in the field outside the manor, Voldemort stormed off, leaving Harry to scramble off his knees to follow him _like a lost puppy_ , he'd thought at the time. The tall black doors swung open for him without even a wave of his wand and Harry looked around, bewildered. Were there other people here? Before he had time to contemplate, a hand wound around his forearm and dragged him forward, through a maze of long corridors decorated with portraits and paintings of people he didn't even know. Voldemort stopped at a seemingly random door and removed his hand from Harry's arm, leaving Harry to pull his arm back to his body and rub it, looking at Voldemort in confusion.

"What are you doing?"

Voldemort rolled his eyes and opened the door, pushing Harry inside. He stepped inside too, shutting the door behind them, watching as Harry looked around the room, brows furrowed.

"Stay here till I come and get you. That door leads to a bathroom. Don't try to leave because I will know about it. If you hear anything, just ignore it."

Harry tilted his head but nodded, so Voldemort left, shutting the door firmly behind him. Harry heard a click afterwards and knew he'd locked the door. He sat on the bed in the middle of the room and contemplated what the fuck had just happened. Not only was he still alive, but he wasn't locked in some dingy cell in the basement on the manor with his fingernails being pulled and his skin being peeled. What the fuck? He sighed and dropped backward, noting the soft silk underneath him. He'd look around a little closer, but what if there was some creature hidden in the wardrobe or behind the door that was going to kill him?

No, he'd thought, rationally, and stayed away from everything in the room. He went over to the window eventually and viewed the scenery - they were on the precipice of a cliff, with naught but sea surrounding the small rock they were situated on. Waves crashed against the rock below them every few minutes, sending sea foam and water into the window. It looked freezing. There was no island to be seen in the immediate distance, so even if he managed to escape the manor, he would probably find himself on some unknown island in the middle of the ocean anyway.

Knowing that even escaping would be futile, he sighed again and went back over to the bed. It was only around 5pm or so, but without his wand, he would have no way to check. That was currently still at the Dursley's, in his old bedroom, the dreaded cupboard, along with his trunk and the rest of his clothes. He pulled back the covers and cuddled into the bed, knowing that even if something did come to kill him now, he'd have been able to appreciate this luxurious bed first. Not long after, he slipped into a deep sleep he didn't even know he'd needed...

-x-

Harry shook those thoughts from his head, pulling his legs over to the side of the bed. He ran a hand down his face, mindful of his glasses, his head already hurting. What now? It looked to be around 9 or 10am, judging from the sun in the sky, as he could see from the window. That meant he'd slept for more than 12 hours, which was rare, even on a good day. He'd clearly needed it though, even if his body still felt achy.

Remembering what Voldemort had said about the door leading to a bathroom, he stood shakily and went over, twisting the handle. Inside was probably the nicest bathroom Harry had ever seen, even nicer than the Prefect's bathroom at Hogwarts. Black tiles and white sinks, bath and toilet, with white towels and a large black rug in the center. His eyebrows raised still, he used the toilet, brushed his teeth with the toothbrush conveniently left on the side of the sink and turned the bath tap on, feeling the temperature of the water. He undressed, leaving his raggy clothes by the side, careful to not look at himself in the ceiling to floor mirror lest he throws up at the sight of his own malnourished and disgusting body, littered with scars and bruises. When the bath was full of scalding water, he turned the tap off, clambered into the water and sunk in till only his head was visible.

He spotted a few bottles of shampoo and body wash nearby but he felt almost too weak to reach them and relaxed into the hot water, his cold body appreciating the warmth. His mind inevitably wandered to the events of this last year at Hogwarts, wherein he lost his closest friends and godfather.

Once they'd returned to Hogwarts after the whole debacle at the Ministry, Hermione and Ron had turned on him, insistent that Harry needed to stop causing so much trouble and getting them into danger, calling him dangerous and idiotic for not checking in with a teacher and not remembering that Voldemort could plant visions. Harry could do nothing but watch, pain tearing at his already broken heart, saying nothing as his friends walked away, hand in hand. Ginny had followed them but curiously, Luna and Neville stayed with him, the latter squeezing his shoulder and the former smiling at him in her usual way.

Harry nodded at them, tears forming in his eyes, but ultimately turned away, knowing that Ron and Hermione were right. All he did was get people into trouble or kill them. He remembered Cedric and Sirius fondly, _guiltily_ , his heart pounding as he forlornly walked to Gryffindor tower and packed his things, the end of term a mere few days away. He'd spent those days in isolation, barely able to focus on his classes, avoiding people like the plague. He'd actually been excited to go back to the Dursley's, just to get out of that stifling environment.

When the water of the bath had cooled significantly, Harry finally dragged his body into a sitting position, reaching for the soaps nearby. He took his time washing, seeing weeks worth of dirt and grime leave his body. When he pulled the plug on the bath, the water was brown and grey, leaving Hary feeling much cleaner. He grabbed one of the white towels and had just wrapped it around his lower waist when a small house-elf popped into existence in the bedroom, arms laden with clothes. She wore a small pink cloth, some form of a dress or something, and looked as healthy as a house elf could look.

"Um, hello?" Harry said, voice croaky.

"My name is Dinky, I be one of the house elves here at Riddle Manor."

"Oh, hello Dinky, I'm Harry," he replied, noting the clearer speech and composed nature of this house elf, in comparison to Dobby and most other house elves he'd seen.

"Master has left these for you and has asked for you to be joining him for breakfast," the elf said, dropping the clothes onto the bed and clicking. Harry heard something burst into flame behind him and raised his eyebrows when he saw his second-hand clothes from the Dursley's had exploded into a ball of fire. Seconds later, all that remained of them was a pile of ashes. Another click later and even they disappeared.

"Master is in the room at the end of the corridor," Dinky said, before popping away again.

Harry, in shock and confusion, giggled. What was going on? Voldemort, seemingly treating house elves well, providing him with a beautiful room and clothes? Had he gone insane? Or sane, Harry thought, with another gentle laugh.

He dropped the towel and put the clothes on, smiling gently at the quality of the robes. He'd never had anything like this before. He buttoned up the white shirt and tucked it into his pants, pulling socks, boxers and high-quality pants on before tugging the long black robes on. The sleeves were a little long but knowing it'd prevent them from slipping up his arms and showing things he'd rather not be seen, he left them as they were. Looking into the long mirror in the bathroom, he deemed himself to be worthy to dine with the Dark Lord, even if his hair was a mess and his body looked malnourished. It was as good as he was going to get, so he went over to the door and found it to be open. He stepped out, closing the door behind himself and followed the directions from Dinky.

He passed more paintings on the way and watched, amused, as they chatted amongst themselves. The whole situation was rather weird - where were the groveling Death Eaters, the blood coating the walls and the screams in the air? Where was the death, the snakes and the smell of fear? Where was Voldemort, most importantly?

He knew where he was, physically, but mentally? A complete mystery. The last he'd seen of him was in the Ministry when he'd forced him out of his mind, leaving him lay on the floor, before the Minister came running in - useless bastard that he was. Since then, Voldemort had not only changed in looks but in demeanor too. What had happened in the last few weeks?

He shook his head, fiddling with his sleeves awkwardly when he came to stop at a pair of doors at the end of the corridor. Did he knock? What lay on the other side? He was dragged from his thoughts by a voice.

"Come in," demanded Voldemort, in is usual drawl. Not wanting another Crucio, Harry jumped and opened the door. Surprisingly, there was only a long table inside, with Voldemort sat at one end. He'd seen this place in his visions - Charity Burbage had been eaten by Nagini on this table, with his inner circle of Death Eaters sat around. He swallowed dryly, forcing his fear away, and looked at Voldemort to see him watching him in amusement. "Come and sit."

Harry nodded minutely before approaching Voldemort, seeing two cups and sets of cutlery, one in front of Voldemort and the other in front of the high-back chair just to his right. He pulled his chair out, wincing at the scrape, before sitting down. He bowed his head immediately, still absolutely confused at the events of the day, but also not wanting to meet Voldemort's blood-red eyes. He heard Voldemort chuckle quietly and his eyebrows raised again. Huh.

Suddenly, Dinky popped into the room, putting copious amounts of food onto the table along with her. Eggs, bacon, sausages, and toast were among the list, food he hadn't seen since breakfasts at Hogwarts. He looked hungrily at the food, hesitant to reach out and grab anything.

"Eat," Voldemort said, putting food on his own plate, "you're malnourished."

Harry nodded again, _disgustingly obedient_ , he thought in his own mind but reached out for food nonetheless. He piled it onto his plate, but knew his limits after the weeks of not eating at the Dursely's. He'd need to take it slow. Dinky came back a few minutes later and put a pitcher of water onto the table. He watched and was surprised, yet again, as Voldemort poured water into two ornate cups, putting one near Harry and sipping from the other.

Harry paid it no mind in the end, digging into his food, with as much politeness as he could for someone with 5 weeks' worth of hunger. When he was nearing the end of his food, he felt Voldemort looking at him (not that he'd really stopped, mind you) so he set his fork down, sat back, and met the eyes of his enemy.

No words were exchanged for what felt like minutes, but was probably more like meager seconds. Voldemort suddenly reached inside his robe and Harry immediately cringed, expecting a Crucio or something to be thrown his way. That seems pretty in line with Voldemort, right? Treat him nice, feed him, give him new clothes before ultimately giving him the demise he'd so prettily begged for yesterday.

At his actions, Voldemort raised an eyebrow, before slowly pulling out a familiar-looking wand.

"But..." Harry muttered, when he caught sight of it, "that's mine. I left it at the Dursley's."

Voldemort nodded but instead of handing it over, he tucked it back into his pocket. Harry's squinted at him, confused.

"Your trunk should be in your room now," he said, before falling silent again, clearly expecting Harry to say something.

"Um," he replied, after even more hesitant silence, "what's going on?"

Voldemort smirked, eyes alit with clear deviance. "You remember what happened at the Ministry, yes? When I assaulted your mind?"

Harry nodded, immediately feeling the usual grief fill every inch of his body, and his eyes dropped to his hands.

"Look at me," Voldemort commanded in a tone that clearly meant he shouldn't disobey, and Harry met his eyes again. "When I was in your mind, I found something that belonged to me."

Harry's brows furrowed in confusion again. Something that belonged to Voldemort? A memory, perhaps? An object? He looked at Voldemort again, waiting for him to explain.

"When I attempted to kill you when you were 15 months old, something went wrong and a piece of my soul attached itself to you. It is called a Horcrux, made by killing someone in a lengthy and painful ritual. As I had just killed your parents and previously made other Horcruxes, _something_ must've occurred when the spell backfired. In short, you are one of my Horcruxes, along with Nagini, the diary you destroyed in your first year and a few others."

By the time he was done, Harry's jaw had dropped. He had a part of Voldemort's soul residing inside him? He shuddered with revulsion at first but noticed how it probably made sense, especially as his scar usually hurt when near Voldemort, _usually_ being the keyword.

"Why doesn't my scar hurt when I'm near you or when I touch you?"

Voldemort sat back too, sighing. "I'm not sure, yet. I was going to collect you from Privet Drive before your 6th year at Hogwarts anyway, but I suppose your begging for me to kill you was in good timing." At this, he looked at Harry, with an expression that Harry couldn't explain or pinpoint.

Unable to hold back anymore, Harry asked the question burning on his mind, blurting the words out before he could stop himself. "Why am I not dead yet?"

Voldemort seemed to chuckle slightly at this. "Why did you ask me to kill you instead of killing yourself? Why were your wand and trunk locked in a cupboard in a filthy muggle house, instead of with you? What was the end of the prophecy before you shattered it? There are many questions to be answered here, Harry. All in good time," he replied, the devious glint returning to his eyes.

Suddenly he stood from his chair, beckoning Harry to follow him out of the room. Harry did so, mind reeling from the questions. He could answer the one's Voldemort asked, but that was definitely a one way trip to death and as much as he wanted to die, he was intrigued at what would happen next. A Horcrux, huh? That's pretty evil. And to think he was one of them! He shuddered again, lingering a few feet behind Voldemort as he walked, turning corridors that Harry was sure he would never remember. Soon, they came upon a large door, studded with large iron nails and chains.

Voldemort waved a hand and it clicked open, opening it wider to allow Harry inside. He followed, looking around curiously at the short corridor made of large blood-red stones and dimly lit stairway at the end, descending deep into the belly of the manor.

He kept as close to Voldemort as he would probably be allowed, sighing in relief when torches lit up the dark spiralling stairway.

At the bottom was another long corridor and Harry rolled his eyes internally - how did people know where to go in manors like this? They were too big! He sobered up, however, when he noticed row upon row of cells, iron bars, and cages. _This is where I'll be locked up forever_ , Harry thought. _He won't kill me, he'll just keep me here forever, torture me day and night, probably to find out the prophecy or something._ He gulped loudly, blinking away the tears of fear he felt at that thought.

Voldemort rolled his eyes this time, placing a strong hand on Harry's shoulder, which the latter tried to shake off but was unable.

"You're not here to be locked inside. Trust me."

At those words, Harry turned to look incredulously at Voldemort. "Trust you? You who got my godfather killed? You who tied me to a gravestone and used my blood to reanimate yourself? You who killed my parents? Trust _you_?"

Voldemort sighed and whipped out his wand, sending a Crucio to Harry's direction. He tried to dodge it but of course, his aim was spot on and Harry was sent to the floor, crying out in agony, curled in on himself.

It was soon over and Harry was left on the floor, tears rolling down his face, hyperventilating. "I'm sorry," he whispered, not wanting to anger the literal Dark Lord in front of him any more than he already had.

"Trust me, Harry," Voldemort said, before wrapping a hand around Harry's trembling forearm and tugging him to his feet. "Follow me."

Harry nodded, following on shaky limbs, cursing himself internally for even speaking. Why was he such a fool? _Precious_ Horcrux or not, Voldemort clearly had no qualms about hurting him.

He almost ran into the back of Voldemort when he stopped in front of him. Looking up, he saw Voldemort gesturing into the cell next to them. He looked, curious, and almost collapsed on the spot again.

There, tucked into the back corner of the cell, were three people - three very familiar people, curled around each other, quiet muttering coming from each of them.

"Uncle Vernon?" Harry whispered, feeling faint. The Dursley's were locking in the creepy dungeon of Riddle Manor, crying and clearly suffering from the after-effects of one too many Crucios. Well, _shit_.


	3. chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ehhh, it's not as long as i'd like, but whatever. be prepared for gratuitous use of italics because I love them :)
> 
> more hinted self harm in this chapter, as well as torture and slightly dark harry. thanks for reading!

Instantly, two beady eyes focused on Harry.

"Boy! Get us out of here! We had the decency to leave you alone, moping in your room all summer, so get us out!"

Harry gulped, one hand gripping the bars of the cell tightly. Without dropping eye contact with his irate uncle, he asked Voldemort, "you went and captured the Dursley's? Why?" He could hear his aunt muttering to Dudley quietly, all while Uncle Vernon shouted and screamed about how Harry should help them get out and escape _that madman_.

"I wanted to," Voldemort simply replied, also admiring the three Muggles with contempt and disgusting.

"Yes, but why?" Harry implored. "There's tons of Muggles out there. Why these three?"

Voldemort tutted and his wand slid out of his sleeve, dropping into his slender pale hand. "Crucio," he said, lazily, and Dudley immediately screamed. Vernon and Petunia cried out too, not that they were being cursed but because their only son was curled in on himself, tears streaming down his face. Harry looked on in fear - and some other emotion he struggled to understand - hands tightening on the bars.

"Stop it," he whispered, and he knew Voldemort heard him. The Crucio stopped and Dudley's scream petered off until he was left sobbing, choking and groaning. Vernon and Petunia were crowding around him, tears on their own faces, desperately trying and yet failing to reassure him. What reassurance could they offer when they were being held hostage in the dungeons of the infamous Lord Voldemort?

Harry finally looked away to see Voldemort merely staring at him, paying absolutely no mind to the Muggles. Was this a test or something? Was he going to put him in the cell with them? No, Harry thought, he said he wouldn't do that. So why were they here?

"If I give you your wand, I want you to cast the Cruciatus curse on your _delightful_ relatives."

At those words, Harry's stomach dropped, distraught . _What?!_ He shook his head, attempting to step away but finding his feet stuck to the floor - was it fear, or magic that kept him there? He didn't really want to find out. His eyes wandered over to the Dursley's again, to see Vernon glaring at him, kneeling next to his lump of a son, an arm protectively curled around Petunia.

"I know you tried to use the Cruicatus curse at the Ministry, Harry. I know you can do it," Voldemort said, reaching into his robes for Harry's wand.

Harry shook his head again, "I can't, I won't do it!" He glared at the wand being held out in front of him, wishing for the first time that he had just tried to kill himself at the beginning of the summer holidays, even if the Prophecy wouldn't allow it. His whole purpose was to kill the man in front of him, after all.

"You will, or you will regret refusing to do so. Take the wand, Harry. Channel your anger. I know it's there. You aren't kept in a cupboard for 11 years without feeling _some_ resentment for these disgusting creatures." He gestured to his only living family in the cell next to them.

"How- how do you know I was kept in the cupboard?" Harry gulped, eyes widening in fear.

"Your magical signature coated the walls of that cupboard, Harry. Not to forget you wrote 'Harry's room' on one of the walls," he sneered, "and there were some bloodstains on the floor that matched your blood."

"Wait, how did you know it was mine? Do you have some of my blood?" 

Voldemort rolled his eyes again. "The ritual in your 4th year required some of your blood, in case you forgot. It's irrelevant, anyway. Cast the curse on your Muggle family and I will let you go."

"You'll let me go? From Riddle Manor?" His voice dripped with hopefulness, already considering the deal.

"No," he said, amused, "just from where you're stood. You won't be leaving Riddle Manor any time soon, Harry. You might as well make yourself comfortable."

Harry looked away, tears in his eyes. He hadn't wanted this, he hadn't wanted _any_ of this! He just wanted to die! Was that too much to ask? He knew that asking Voldemort to kill him to fulfill the Prophecy was a long-shot. Ah, well. There's nothing he can do about it now.

He took the wand slowly, cringing at Voldemort's pleased look, before turning his wand on the Dursley's. Vernon's eyes lit up, clearly thinking Harry would be doing the right thing and was about to free them from this prison. Oh, how little he understood. That was disheartening in itself - his only family left were locked up and there he was, in the company of a Dark Lord, about to use an Unforgivable on them. It made his head hurt more than it already was this morning.

"I-I don't think I can do it," Harry said, fear seeping into his heart.

"Focus, Harry," Voldemort said, coming around Harry to stand just behind him, whispering into his ear. It made the hair on the back of Harry's neck stand up and his hand shook slightly. "I know you can do it. Focus on the pain, the anger and the resentment. Enact your revenge, rightfully given. Do it."

Harry swallowed again, his heart thumping away in his chest. Was he really about to do this? If he wanted to remain pain-free, limbs intact and out of Voldemort's anger, he would have to

He breathed deeply, running through the painful memories of his childhood in his mind, the word on his lips. He saw being whacked with a frying pan by Petunia for burning breakfast when he was 8, his hand being slammed in the door by Dudley and his monstrous friend, Uncle Vernon beating him to a bloody pulp because he was demoted at work and _of course it's your fault, you freak!_

"Crucio," he whispered, and screams filled the air, reverberating around the whole basement, ear-splittingly loud. He would've winced, if he wasn't so zoned in on his pure hatred for these Muggles. He was actually successfully cast the Torture curse... but the concentration dropped when he processed that thought slower and his dearest uncle stopped screaming, his body shaking with fear and nerve damage. It'd only held for a few seconds, but it worked! Harry loathed to admit it but watching his Uncle under such duress felt ... good, almost. Deserved, at least.

"Well done, Harry. Again," Voldemort hissed in his ear, commanding, as usual. Harry unconsciously preened under the praise, weirdly pleased that he'd managed to do it, even if briefly. A few minutes ago, he was horrified at the thought of causing such pain to someone but now, seeing the fear in his family's eyes, the disgust was no longer there. The last 15 years as payback! What would Dumbledore think if he was to see him now?

He wiped the tears from his face and focused again, this time aiming at his aunt.

"Crucio!" He shouted, a slight smile coming to his face when screams erupted from her mouth. He heard Voldemort chuckling from behind him and his smile grew. After 30 seconds had passed, he dropped the Curse and aimed his wand at Dudley, firing the curse off once more.

The glee continued for a few minutes, swapping between his three relatives before his mind suddenly stopped and he thought, _what the fuck am I doing?_ His breath hitched and his wand dropped. He stumbled back slightly, almost into Voldemort, his feet now unstuck from the floor.

"S-stop..." he whispered, turning away from his relatives. Would they even recover from this? Had he put them under the curse for too long? None of them looked to be conscious before he stopped, an acrid smell of piss and sweat in the air. The cell fell eerily silent and he held his wand out for Voldemort, who slowly took it off his hands.

Harry finally looked up, disconcerted by the pride and happiness in Voldemort's eyes.

"No more," he said, swallowing the sick threatening to come out of his throat for the second time in two days. He'd just _tortured_ his relatives, and he _enjoyed_ it. What kind of monster did that make him? _No worse than Voldemort,_ he thought, sullen, _torturing Muggles for fun._

"You did well, Harry. Dinky will take you back to your room."

Harry nodded and Dinky popped into the room. His senses seemed to shut off when he felt a small hand grasp his wrist. He barely even noticed he'd been Popped back to his bedroom, where he immediately fell onto his bed, tears streaming down his face. His fingers clawed at his wrists, digging in till he drew blood, and he screamed into his pillow.

Did this make him _evil_?

 _Probably,_ he thought, and at that, he fell into an uneasy sleep.

-x-

When he next awoke, Voldemort was sat backwards on the chair near his desk, arms resting on the back. He looked like he'd been there a while. _Watching me sleep,_ Harry thought, in the back of his mind, but thought no more of it. Normal for a Dark Lord, probably...

"What do you want?" Harry said in a sleepy and weary tone, sitting up on the bed, straightening his glasses and robes, eyes passing over the red marks coating the insides of his arms. That was a problem for later.

"Ask me questions," Voldemort replied.

"What?"

"You're not deaf, are you?" He sneered again, remarkably Snape-like. "Ask me questions. Anything. I know you have some."

Harry shrugged and sat back against the pillows, trying to look as nonchalant as he could in the presence of one of the most feared dark wizards of Britain's history.

"Alright," he said, and thought for a moment. "Why didn't the Ministry do anything when I used my wand? Not only was it underage magic, but I cast an Unforgivable. More than once," he finished, mind flashing back to casting the curse over and over again, grimacing.

"I disabled the Trace on your wand," Voldemort replied.

"You can do that?" Harry asked, confused.

Voldemort waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. "Of course I can. Not very reliable, is it?"

"I guess so... why do you look different from a few weeks ago, at the Ministry?"

Voldemort chuckled lowly, amusement in his eyes. "Miss the snake-look, do you? When I found the Horcrux in your body, I made it my mission to gather the rest of them. I succeeded, excluding one, but that's a matter for a later date. I joined them together again and they are now back inside me. My soul is almost full again, excluding two Horcruxes - you, and the other. It made me _saner_ ," he muttered, disdainfully, "and regained me my old looks, excluding the red eyes. I quite like them, though."

When he finished, Harry nodded, still confused about the Horcrux part. "So, you're mostly yourself, excluding two Horcruxes? How much of your soul resided in each one?"

"Whether it was a sliver of it or completely half of it, is unknown. It's extremely dark magic, so no one has researched it in depth. Considering it rendered me completely insane and I made _more_ after the first one, I'd say quite a bit of my soul resided in each one." He said the last part with disgust in his voice, clearly regretting his actions in the past.

"Where are all of your Death Eaters?"

Voldemort grinned, salacious and sadistic. "Most of them are at Malfoy Manor for the time being, except Bellatrix, on the other side of the manor here."

Harry's heart stopped. "Bellatrix is here?"

Voldemort squinted, confused. "Why would it matter if she were? You won't be able to reach her. The different sides of the manor are warded from each other." He clearly saw the fire in Harry's eyes, so he stood from his chair and slowly wandered over to the bed, sitting cross-legged at the end, opposite Harry. "Do you want to kill her?"

The question snapped Harry out of his memories and he jumped, seeing Voldemort so close, before shaking his head.

"No," he said, not very convincingly, "of course not. Why are you being so nice to me?"

Voldemort looked slightly miffed that murder wasn't on Harry's mind, but answered his question anyway. "You are a part of me, Harry Potter, a living Horcrux. Regardless of what the Prophecy states, you are mine."

Harry gulped at the possessive tone of Voldemort's voice, determined to not tell him the rest of the Prophecy, since Voldemort not knowing the latter half of it was currently keeping him alive right now. Wait, if he _wanted_ to die, why was he not telling Voldemort the rest of the Prophecy anyway? He'd be dead, so he wouldn't have to face Dumbledore's disappointment in the end anyway.

"Would you... would you like to hear the rest of the Prophecy?"

Voldemort, though confused, nodded eagerly.

" _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies, and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not and either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies. _"__

__Silence reigned for a few minutes after Harry told him the rest of the Prophecy. He was completely expecting Voldemort to turn around and cast the Killing Curse on him, especially as one of them must kill the other and Harry didn't exactly have his wand right now. He was at a full disadvantage, and he wanted Voldemort to use it to kill him._ _

__"Why did you tell me?" Voldemort asked, still confused._ _

__Hary guffawed, shocked. "You did hear the part where neither of us can live while the other is alive, right? I was expecting you to kill me," he said, wryly._ _

__Voldemort shook his head. "No, I won't be killing you, Harry. You're too valuable for that."_ _

__That said, he stood from the bed, determination on his face._ _

__"Wait!" Harry cried out, sighing when Voldemort stopped walking and turned to face him. "What now?"_ _

__"I don't know, do your summer homework or something. I'll be busy for the next few days, call Dinky if you need anything." He left the room, the door slamming shut behind him._ _

__"Well... that went well..." Harry said out loud, but went over to his trunk anyway and pulled out his Transfiguration homework. Then, for the next few hours, he sat at the desk, mind reeling from the events of the last day or two. _What a wild world we live in,_ he thought, sighing._ _


	4. chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> b r u h
> 
> it's been too long!!! i am very sorry!!!! quarantine fucked me up more than i anticipated lmao. anyway, enjoy this probably shitty chapter.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING for self harm and suicidal thoughts at the very end.

After a few days of homework, lounging and catching up on sleep, Harry was ready to start climbing the walls. He still hadn't been allowed to leave his small sanctuary, only seeing Dinky maybe once or twice a day. All of his summer homework was finished and Harry was itching for something to do, anything at all. He'd asked Dinky to bring him some books from the Riddle Library but they were either far too complicated, written in incomprehensible languages or about the Dark Arts, and he refused to read the latter.

He craved company too, especially that of _Voldemort_. He hadn't seen the wizard since he'd left him after that riveting conversation, ending with him adamantly stating he wouldn't kill Harry. He wasn't sure how he could miss someone like Voldemort, but he was somewhat pleasant to talk to, especially now that the bar was set pretty low, in terms of people he'd talked to in the last few months.

Now he was just sat at the bay window, head leaning on the panes of glass, barely flinching when seawater was launched at his face from the cliffside, only the thin glass stopping it. He felt healthier than he had in weeks, what with Dinky bringing him 3 full meals a day. He missed his wand though, and Hedwig. He wasn't sure where either was. Probably in the clutches of Voldemort still. He was no longer feeling persistent tiredness either, but he guessed a comfy bed and being out of the Dursely House would do that to you.

What would Dumbledore think if he saw him right now, the most relaxed he'd ever been, in Riddle Manor? Surely he must know something is wrong. Harry obviously hadn't delivered a letter to the Order this week and the Auror outside of 4 Privet Drive were probably dead. And, of course, there were his missing relatives... the wizarding world were either in uproar or being kept in the dark by Dumbledore. Either way, Harry was just glad to be here rather than _there_. Surprisingly, he found himself not missing Ron or Hermione, but Luna and Neville instead. He'd last seen them after getting off the train at the end of the school year, but he'd heard nothing from them since then. Perhaps he could ask Dinky for some parchment and an owl, just to make sure they were okay.

Speaking of, there was a gentle pop from behind him and soon enough, Dinky was stood nearby.

"Master has requested for you to be joining him for dinner tonight, Master Harry." With that, she placed some new clothes on the end of the bed, bowed low and popped out of the room again.

"Uhm, okay?" Harry said to the empty room, standing from his seat at the window and taking the clothes into the bathroom. He ran a quick bath, hopping in and out in a few minutes - unfortunately, he'd learnt to wash pretty fast, especially when people like Dudley banged on the door and demanded you finish quicker so that they can lavish for half an hour.

After he'd dressed in the ornate dark green robes left by Dinky, he attempted and failed to comb his hair into some form of neatness before just huffing, giving up, and making his way to the door. One quick pull of the door handle revealed it to be finally open - after days of being locked, Harry thought, frustrated. He followed the same path as his second day here, noting the quietness of the portraits, before stopping in front of the double doors.

"Come in," commanded Voldemort. How does he always know he's there?

Shaking his head minutely, he pushed the door open, walking fast to his usual seat to the right of Voldemort but abruptly stopping short. There sat in the chair he used last time, was a familiar face. Rage immediately filled his entire being and he tried to launch himself at the chair, but he found his feet stuck to the floor once more.

"Now, now, Harry, that's no way to act in front of a Lord." Bellatrix's familiar drawl made Harry cringe internally.

"What the fuck is she doing here? I'll kill her, I swear I will!" Harry fought as hard as he could against the magic tying him to the floor, murderous intent in his eyes.

"If I let you go, will you calmly sit?"

Harry finally looked to Voldemort, attempting to tune out the insane cackling coming from the Lestrange woman. 

"No," Harry said, determined. He did stop struggling though, his body already feeling a little weakened.

Voldemort sighed, wiping a hand across his face. "Fine," he muttered, "if you don't calmly sit down, I will Crucio you until you behave."

"Behave?!" Harry shouted, incredulous. "She murdered Sirius!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he crumpled to the floor in abject pain, his nerves feeling like they were being fried and sizzled. He hadn't even heard Voldemort say the curse! It continued on and on, neverending, each second more painful than the last, before stopping entirely.

Harry heaved, stomach somehow withholding the sick threatening to come out, tears rolling down his cheeks.

The room was silent, except for Harry's audible breathing. Finally, Harry sat up, hands twitching madly, wiping away his tears and making his way to his chair on shaky legs. As soon as he sat down, he slumped forward, head on the table, unable to stop his tears. Inside, embarrassment and humiliation fueled his tears even more. Why couldn't he stop crying? Here he was, sat in front of his godfather's murderer, sobbing.

"Bellatrix, leave." The quiet words and the sound of a chair scraping the floor broke through his anguish. He felt a hand wrap around his shoulder, his fight or flight response not kicking in at all, even though he knew it was Voldemort touching him.

"Why couldn't you just kill me?" Harry whispered, broken, wanting nothing more than to bleed and hurt. It's what he deserved. The hand tightened on his shoulder.

"I can't do that, Harry," Voldemort replied, just as quiet and maybe just as broken.

Harry sat up, dislodging the hand and pushing his chair backwards. "What do you want from me?"

Voldemort sat back in his chair, eyes calculating, no trace of the previous sadness in his demeanor. "Your cooperation," he said, "and your obedience. I want your trust. I want you to be open-minded and accepting of the truth."

Harry's brows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Voldemort chuckled, clicking his fingers, food appearing on the table in front of them. "All in good time, Harry. All in good time. Eat."

Harry shook his head, dispelling all thoughts of what had just happened and focusing on the food on the table. He still wasn't exactly used to being allowed to eat as much as he had, his body still not adjusted to the diversity of the food available at Riddle Manor. How ironic, he thought, being treated better in the hands of my supposed enemy than I ever was with Dumbledore. If that doesn't sum up the Light side, what else does?

x-x

Later that night, Dinky appeared in his room for the second time, interrupting Harry's accidental nap. He'd only meant to lie down for a few minutes, but it seemed he'd accidentally fell asleep. The Crucio and the crying probably tired him out earlier.

"Master is asking for you to sit with him in his office this evening, Master Harry."

Rubbing his eyes with his hand, Harry sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"Wait, really? Why?"

"His office is being 3 doors down from the eating room." Dinky bowed, popping out, leaving Harry sat on his bed, looking around confusedly.

He sighed at the unanswered question, used to the quips of a house elf, before making his way to Voldemort's office.

Somehow, he felt unafraid. No one had treated him with the kindness that Voldemort had, even if he'd been Crucio'd multiple times since he arrived here. Admittedly deserved, he thought, following his usual path around the manor. He'd been taught better than speaking back to someone of authority, especially when you get hit in the face with a TV remote at the age of 6. But if he liked being captive in Riddle Manor, in the hands of the one person that could keep him trapped forever, was he experiencing some twisted form of Stockholm Syndrome or something? He didn't really want to think of it, to be honest. At least he was free from Dumbledore's demented grasp, even if he wasn't dead yet.

"Yet," he muttered, coming to a stop in front of the door he assumed to be Voldemort's office.

"Come in," came the usual and expected command. Harry slowly pushed the door open, taking note of the room itself.

It was quite large, with dark red walls and bookcases covering all 4 walls. On the wall directly to his left was an ornate fireplace with plush black armchairs in front of it. It lit up the room quite nicely, basking the atmosphere in warm orange light. On the wall to his right was a desk, with a familiar man sat behind it. He was watching Harry already but gestured to the seat opposite him when Harry met his eyes.

He made his way over, gingerly sitting himself down, looking at Voldemort but unable to make eye contact.

The fire crackled behind Harry, a comforting noise, a gentle reminder of the Gryffindor common room. Finally, Voldemort spoke.

"Bellatrix killed your godfather in cold blood, yes?"

"Yes," Harry bit out.

"Wrong," Voldemort curtly replied, sitting back in his chair.

"What do you mean? I saw it happen! She cast the Killing Curse at him!" Harry lurched forward, hands gripping the edge of the desk, pain filling his heart immediately.

"Did you, though?"

Harry went slack, confused. "Of course I did, what do you mean?"

"Think, Harry. What did you actually see? Think!"

"I-I saw Bellatrix Lestrange killing my godfather! I have seen it every night since it happened, in my dreams! She killed him!"

"Bellatrix Lestrange wasn't there that night, Harry. She wasn't even conscious. She was here, in Riddle Manor, undergoing intensive healing for what Azkaban did to her. Bella was never there!" The urgency in his voice increased with every word.

"W-what do you mean? What are you talking about?" Harry felt tears come to his eyes and tried blinking them away, but it didn't work and a few spilled over, onto his cheeks. "I saw it happen..."

"No, Harry, you didn't." Voldemort stood from his chair, wandered over to the bookcase next to the fireplace and pushed one side. Immediately, the whole bookcase rotated in place, smoothly revealing a Pensieve on the other side. "Come, Harry. I want to show you something."

Harry made his way over, mind still turning over what Voldemort had told him. Could it be true? No, of course not. But why, then, was Voldemort trying to convince him otherwise?

When he stood next to Voldemort, both of them looking into the liquid in the bowl of the Pensieve. A hand curled around his shoulder again and he leaned into it, legs feeling weak suddenly. What was about to be revealed to him?

"Think of that night, Harry. Remember it." The cold tip of a wand touched his temple and his eyes slipped closed. He took himself back to that dreadful night, to the grief and pain that'd broken him.

He opened his eyes again to find himself stood in the Ministry again, in the room with the Veil. In front of him, a battle was going on between Harry and his friends against the Death Eaters. The sounds of the battle were muted as if it was far away instead of a mere 10ft in front of him.

"Look closer," a voice whispered into his ear. He shivered, blinking rapidly. How was he supposed to look closer at something he'd already experienced?

"Look!" Harry flinched in response, watching the battle intensely. What was he missing?

Suddenly, the scene in front of his changed. Ron, Hermione and Ginny were off to the side of the room, not fighting but watching. Luna and Neville were still fighting, but not against Death Eaters. Order Members, easily recognizable by their typical uniform and robes. Where were the Death Eaters?

Harry himself was fighting too, but not Lucius. In the middle, where the elder Malfoy stood, was now Dumbledore, throwing spells at Sirius.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, eyes wide.

"Your memories of the fight were changed by Dumbledore. He cast multiple mind blocks and Obliviates on you. He wanted to prophecy for himself and thought the best way to do that was to make it seem like you were fighting my Death Eaters. I guess he hadn't anticipated on Sirius arriving, nor you taking Lovegood and Longbottom with you or destroying the prophecy."

"But... why?"

"Watch," Voldemort said, "and you'll see."

Suddenly, Sirius is hit with a bright green curse, falling slowly into the veil. Arms wrap around Harry, but they aren't Remus', they're Neville's.

Immediately afterward, Dumbledore turns to Harry and his friends, eyes mad with rage. Not taking note of the crying boy in front of him, he casts multiple spells at a rapid pace towards Harry, Neville and Luna. Ron and Hermione look on, unsurprised and unbothered, as if it was a normal occurrence. Harry and his friends fall unconscious.

"Why were those two here?!" The words were quiet, but still slightly audible. Dumbledore turns his rage to the Weasley siblings and Granger, gesturing towards Luna and Neville.

"Professor, we couldn't stop them! They refused to stay behind!" Trust Hermione to speak up, Harry thought, bitterly.

Dumbledore shakes his head, muttering a few Obliviates and a few spells Harry has never heard of before. He watches as his other self wakes up from the floor a few minutes later, looking confused for a second or two before running out of the room, presumably after 'Bellatrix.'

As soon as his other self was out of sight, he and Voldemort were ejected from the Pensieve. Harry fell onto the floor, not having the spare moment to feel envy at Voldemort for landing on his feet. He was too confused over what he saw.

"What the fuck was that?" Instead of feeling angry, he merely felt absolute disgust in himself for not having seen it sooner. The missing chunks of memory, the feeling that he was constantly being watched, the moments of pure confusion.

"Dumbledore isn't a good man, Harry, nor is he Light. He has the Order and the so-called Light side wrapped around his finger. He's brainwashed them all beyond the point of return. You've had so many memory blocks and Obliviates and Confundus charms placed on you, it's a miracle that you haven't been mentally broken."

Harry chuckled, humorlessly. "You say that as if I haven't."

Voldemort rolled his eyes, wandering back over to his chair, clearly wanting Harry to follow. When they'd both settled in their chairs again, Voldemort sat forward, putting his chin in his hands with his elbows on the table. It was silent again for a few minutes, with Harry shuffling and fidgeting under Voldemort's stare. What now? 

"There's so much you don't know, Harry. I don't want to overwhelm you all at once though, so you should return to your room. We'll talk again tomorrow."

With that said, he waved a hand to the door. It clicked open. Harry blinked, slowly stood from his chair, mind still not comprehending what happened.

He left the room, closing the door softly behind him and walking in a daze to his room. _His_ room. Huh.

When he got back, he turned the lights off and curled up on the bed. His hands immediately went to his forearms and began scratching and scratching until the skin peeled and blood caked under his nails. This time, he didn't cry. He barely even thought, just felt the pain in his arms and filled his mind with the scent of the blood. He missed his wand so much, but this would have to do for now.

Would this pain ever end? Mind made up, his last thought before dropping into REM was that he needed to find a way to kill himself, to release himself from this world before it became too much. He fell into a fitful sleep that night, numb and empty.


	5. chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW TW TW TW TW TW TW TW TW TW
> 
> HUGE TRIGGER WARNING: this chapter has extremely graphic descriptions of self harm at the end. i mean, extremely. it may even detail how to self harm, therefore, please be careful. if you think it will trigger you, back out now. PLEASE. i am writing this story to entertain, sure, but also to vent, educate and explain. the descriptions are real and are partly my own experiences. that being said, if reading about harry self harming is your thing, continue.
> 
> sooooo, this chapter is actually pretty long lol. i think it's a bit shit, but ahh well. i hope the story makes sense so far lol, it's slowly becoming my biggest fic too but I enjoy writing it.
> 
> a kitty wandered up to me today whilst i was on my walk and she was super cute and tiny, but she let me pet her so today was a good day. :) feel free to message me if y'all ever need anything or to rant, too. i promise I'm a good listener and will try my best to help. that being said, here is the chapter!

That morning, Harry woke in a significantly worse mood than he'd been in last night. Not only did he get just 3 hours of sleep, but the events of last night were also finally beginning to sink in. Memory blocks, Obliviates, a dead godfather by Dumbledore's hand and complete betrayal? How far back had this gone? Maybe Tom could answer some of his questions...

He dragged himself out of bed by Dinky's request and bathed quickly, tossing any array of clothes on before making his way to the dining room for breakfast. When he entered the room, Bellatrix was sat at the chair again and Harry nearly tripped when he remembered that she wasn't actually the person that killed Sirius. He pulled out the chair to Voldemort's left, sitting down, much more composed than he was yesterday morning, not that he could meet Bellatrix's eyes yet. The humiliation of sobbing in front of both the Dark Lord and Bellatrix was still too much to not cringe about and he was just thankful they hadn't brought it up again yet. His eyes were practically burning a hole into the table in front of him.

"My apologies for yesterday morning, Harry. I didn't quite know the extent of Dumbledore's mind spells on you."

Harry nodded in forgiveness. "I somehow knew that Dumbledore was using me, but I didn't think he'd go as far as spellcasting and using Obliviates on my friends and I. I did notice some of my memories were missing, and how Ron and Hermione were always somewhat distant, but I didn't expect this level of betrayal." He frowned, hands fidgeting with each other. He'd began to slip back into old habits of tearing at his cuticles, but he saved that thought for later.

"Mmm, even with all of the spells he's cast on you, I suppose even your subconscious knows that Dumbledore isn't all he seems to be."

"Wait, does that mean Sirius has mind blocks on him too?" Harry asked, before realizing, sighing deeply. "Had, I mean."

"Most likely," Voldemort replied, simultaneously clicking again and summoning breakfast, "I wouldn't be surprised if Snape, Lupin, and a few of his Order members do too. Excluding the Weasley's, of course." He muttered the last sentence with disgust and disdain evident in his voice.

At the mention of Snape and Lupin, Harry looked up from his food. "What do you mean? Snape and Lupin have memory blocks?"

"Probably," Tom replied, waving a hand. "Your parents were originally Light, you know. They were mostly Grey, actually, but Snape's magical family were Dark and Lupin would inherently be considered Dark, being a werewolf and all."

Harry set his cutlery down and sat back in his chair, looking at Bellatrix for the first time since entering the room, only to see her eating normally.

"I... I'm sorry for trying to attack you," he bit out, knowing it was probably the right thing to do but his mind still saw her as his godfather's murderer.

Bellatrix merely laughed. "Potter, you have no idea how corrupt this war is." She seemed remarkably sane, actually, now that Harry was thinking about it.

"She's right, Harry. I want to find out what else Dumbledore has done to your mind but I need a few things from you, first..." Tom said - and since when had Harry started thinking of him as Tom? - as they finished their breakfast. "Come with me to my office," he stood from the table and left, Harry trailing behind him.

When they were both seated at the desk again, fire roaring behind them, Tom began the conversation by placing Harry's wand on the desk.

"Harry, we may have been enemies for 15 years now but we are on the same side. I know you find that hard to believe but I want to help you."

"Voldemort, I literally sent you a letter asking for you to kill me. Why would you want to help me? You attacked me when I was 11 months old, 11 years old, 14 years old and your Horcrux attacked me when I was 12. I just want to die, Voldemort. How hard can that be? You can go back to whatever it is you do, Dumbledore loses the war and I get to be free." Harry implored for Voldemort to understand.

"No. Here are my terms to the agreement; I give you your wand back free of the Trace, remove any blocks that Dumbledore placed on you and help you develop your magic. In return, you help me win the war. Additionally, might I remind you that I wasn't sane nor had any knowledge of what Dumbledore was doing in the past. Anyway, I have a new motivation for the war, especially after recent revealing information." He nonchalantly pulled out a letter from a drawer and smirked, turning the envelope over and over in his hand.

Harry skeptically rose an eyebrow, eyeing the wand on the table. He desperately wanted his wand back. "What information?"

"First, you agree to my terms and we make an Oath. Then, I'll tell you. Deal?" Tom grinned, viciously, holding out his hand.

Harry sighed, knowing that with his wand, he could at least find new ways to kill himself, especially without the Trace. His original motive hadn't changed yet - he wanted to die, more than anything. Well, he wanted his wand back for other reasons too, but that wasn't important. "Alright," he finally replied, grasping Tom's arm with his hand and wincing when his counterpart did the same, irritating his wounds under the sleeve. Thankfully, Voldemort didn't notice, too busy grinning in his typical evil way and prepping the Oath in his mind, presumably.

"I will return this wand to its rightful owner, Harry Potter, remove any blocks on his magic and his mind and teach him how to use wandless magic, Occlumency and the Dark Arts. In return, Harry Potter will fight on my side of the war, stay alive and obey me, not revealing anything I tell him outside of this room. If we break this Oath, we lose our magic. So mote it be."

Harry's eyes darted to Voldemort's when he said his part of the Oath but knew that backing out now would cause more problems for himself later. "So mote it be," he muttered, closing his eyes briefly at the bright white light that glowed from where they joined for a few seconds. When it had disappeared, he dropped the contact he had with Tom and snatched his wand back, tucking it away into his robes.

"Alright, now I can tell you what I know. Are you ready?"

Harry nodded impatiently and gestured for him to go on. What could be so important that Voldemort made him make an Oath for it?

Voldemort hesitated for a few minutes - probably for dramatic effect, Harry noted, sourly - before sighing. "The prophecy isn't real."

After a beat of silence, Harry finally replied. "What the fuck did you just say?"

Tom - _Voldemort_ \- nodded, leaning backwards. "It's true. Once you told me the whole prophecy, I sent it off to a Seer to confirm it. Apparently, Trelawney isn't a real Seer and therefore the prophecy isn't true. Dumbledore, however, thinks it is, and it must stay that way. He clearly wants to know the rest of it, considering they were interrupted by Snape during the actual _prophesizing_ and he went as far as planting visions in your mind to make you go to the Ministry and retrieve it."

"Couldn't he have done that himself?" Harry asked, utterly confused and angry.

"No. The prophecy concerned you and I, therefore only we are the ones that could hear it. I assume he wanted you to bring it back to Hogwarts, but Sirius got there before he could, most likely after breaking his own memory blocks, hence why the fight broke out between you, your friends, Sirius and the Order members. Or so I assume," he said, rolling his eyes.

Harry shook his head minutely. His entire life has been flipped upside down in a matter of days. Dumbledore wasn't who he said he was, the Weasley's and Granger were not actually his friends, Sirius wasn't killed by Bellatrix and now the prophecy wasn't even real?

"My life has been dependent on a prophecy that isn't even real," he muttered incredulously.

"Mine too," Tom replied, just as angry as Harry. "We've both been trapped under Dumbledore's machinations since we were children."

Harry glared at him. "Don't lump us into the same category, Voldemort. You've still killed hundreds of people, innocent people."

"Yes, yes, I know," Tom replied, waving his hand, "that's not important anymore. My aim in this war has changed, Harry. I want Dumbledore dead."

Harry gulped at the anger in his voice, inching away slightly. "Well, what now?"

Voldemort sighed, propping his elbows onto the desk and putting his chin on his hands. "You're more powerful than you think, Harry. I assume you have magic blocks as well as mind blocks. You're Slytherin too, I saw it when I was in your mind. You enjoyed casting the Cruciatus curse at your relatives and you have no fear of death. Seeing as we are no longer enemies, I would be a fool to let you go now."

"I can't just join your side, Tom. I've been fighting for the Light for my whole life. I'm practically a pariah for them!"

"No, you're their martyr. They don't care about what happens to you, beyond you being able to kill me. They know I'm back now, too, especially after the Ministry fiasco. I can help you become great, Harry. So powerful, you'll never be anyone's puppet ever again. Does that not entice you?"

Harry shuffled in his seat, almost uncomfortable with the truth in Tom's statement. It _does_ entice him. Ever since he was a small boy, forgotten and locked away in a cupboard, all he ever wanted was to be free, to have the power to fight back against those that undermine him. All he ever wanted was to be noticed. The rational voice of his mind told him that there were other ways to achieve that power, but another, much larger part of him asked why bother looking for those ways when one was right here, being offered on a platter to him?

He sighed, nodding slowly. "Alright," he said, "I'll join you. But I am not a slave, Tom. I refuse to bend to your wills whenever."

Tom laughed, eyes almost glowing in excitement. "Thank you, Harry. Now, let's get those blocks off, shall we?"

-x-

A few hours later, Harry hobbled his way back into his room and collapsed onto his bed cradling his wand in his hands. He breathed deep, magically, physically and emotionally exhausted. Not long after making the Oath, Tom had entered his mind again through Legilimency, using spell after spell to dismount the overwhelming amount of blocks on both Harry's mind and his magic. He had multiple magic restraints on, halving his power, and too many memory blocks to count. He dismounted them carefully, ensuring he didn't send Harry into a catatonic state, before exiting his mind to see Harry slumped over in the chair, his magic whirling around him.

It seems that after being trapped since he was 11 months old, his magic was excited at being free finally. Voldemort stepped to the other side of the room immediately, placing a Protego shield in front of himself before waiting for Harry to awake and his magic to calm down. It only took a few minutes for that to happen, but when it did, it wasn't calm by any means.

His magic lashed out, launching books across the room, extinguishing the fire and scattering papers everywhere. The anger in Harry's eyes showed that Voldemort was successful at removing the blocks and he strengthened the shield massively. He definitely didn't want to be on the receiving end of that rage right now.

"Harry, you need to calm down," he shouted over the wind whipping around the room as a result of the magic. "You're going to exhaust your magical core!"

Immediately, the wind stopped and Harry closed his eyes. The feel of his magic was still somewhat oppressive and consuming him, but Voldemort dropped the shield and made his way over to his desk again, throwing a small Incendio back at the fireplace.

"Why would he place blocks on my magic?"

"I assume it was so your relatives wouldn't drop you off at an orphanage at the first sign of accidental magic," Voldemort replied, dryly.

"But I did," Harry said. "Have accidental magic, I mean. Not often, but I did."

"You do realize that magical children typically have accidental magic every day at least, right? It can be lethal too, if they don't learn how to control it. It's less often in Muggleborns, but with Half Bloods and Pure Bloods, the accidental magic is very strong and very often."

Harry's brows furrowed and he looked down, almost vibrating with anger. "All this time, I've been having problems with certain spells or learning about magic. Is this why?"

"Most definitely. Dumbledore probably wanted to constrain your magic so you'd be dependent on clever friends too, like that Granger girl. If you surpassed her in terms of magic, she'd probably be less swayed by Dumbledore's manipulations, jealously running her emotions. It's clear he doesn't care about your wellbeing too, considering he knew about what the Dursley's were doing to you but never made a move to save you."

Harry nodded, tapping his fingers on the desk. "That makes sense. I can also remember all of the instances where he's altered my memory too, but there's almost too many. Times I've overheard Weasley and Granger talking about me, times where I've seen things I shouldn't, y'know?"

"We'll work on those more during Occlumency, but for now, you need to rest. Having your magical power restored to such high levels will be physically taxing."

Suddenly feeling the exhaustion hit him, Harry nodded, standing up. Before leaving the room, however, he turned back to Voldemort.

"Thank you," he said quietly, "for helping me. I don't know exactly whether you have good or bad intentions in this war or for me, for that matter, but I want the same as you. I want Dumbledore's head mounted on my wall. Oh, and sorry for the damage to your office," he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Tom laughed before waving his wand, all of the books returning to the shelves and the papers from his desk tidying themselves back into neat piles. "Goodnight, Harry," he said, just as quiet.

Harry nodded, clicking the door shut behind him, before slowly making his way back to his room.

Now, here he was, curled up on his bed, absolutely mad and yet tired. He'd never felt such rage and need for revenge after waking up in Tom's office and suddenly remembering everything Dumbledore had done to him, how much had been taken from him. At least I have my wand back, Harry thought, gleefully, before sitting up in the bed and rolling his left sleeve up to his elbow.

Scars upon scars littered his arm, not an inch left untouched. They ranged from pale white and thin to wide, angry and red. It'd taken years of work to get his arms to where they were now and he didn't regret a minute of it. They looked so pretty, so damaged, reflecting his insides on the outside. He ran a finger over them, feeling each bump and indentation religiously, instantly feeling calmer. This was his design, his work. This was the one thing that no one could take from him.

He started a short time before Hogwarts after seeing it on TV once, influenced from an early age to start. At first, he'd just used a clean kitchen knife, stealing it whilst doing chores and taking it back to his cupboard. That night, after he heard his lock click and the Dursley's finally fell asleep, he pulled the small blade from under his pillow and held it against his upper thigh. He hesitated at first, heart pounding in his chest, but finally built up the courage and dragged the blade across his leg. He gasped, dropping the blade, not even hearing it clatter on the floor. Blood welled up in the shallow cut, dripping down his thigh and finally plinking onto the hardwood floor. Harry was _mermerised_. Suddenly, everything made sense. The bump on the back of his head from the punch that his Uncle threw at him earlier that week didn't hurt so much and his heart already felt lighter, his world seemingly brighter.

He soon fell into a continuous habit. It didn't happen often and it certainly didn't scar, but he was satiated, at least for a year or so. He depended on it, in some twisted way. It made him feel better and he could focus more when he'd done it. After he learned he was a wizard and would be going to Hogwarts, everything seemed a bit happier but when he'd learned how famous he was, for something he couldn't even remember, he soon fell back into his cycle of cutting, healing and starting it all over again. After the events with the Stone and having to be sent back to the Dursley's for summer, Harry began thirsting for more than superficial cuts. He needed more damage, more blood. More everything.

Since that moment, he'd stuck to his thighs and his muggle knife, but that summer before second year, he went out one day to a local muggle library and researched about self harm using a computer. Oh, the things he learned! Most of the websites were detailing why people self harmed or how to look after your self harm, but Harry already knew most of those. It didn't take him very long before he stumbled upon a website where self harmers posted pictures of their self harm, vented in chats and guides had been posted. And the pictures... he wouldn't exactly say they were triggering, but they made him feel some kind of way that he couldn't describe. The guides helped him see the depth of cuts and self harm, ranging from the epidermis to the hypodermis - the fat layer, he'd whispered, reverently. This is exactly what he needed.

Somewhere in his mind, he knew it wasn't healthy or sane or even remotely okay to be doing this, but he didn't really care anymore, and thus started his serious journey into a deep abyss that he'd never fully crawl out of. He didn't bother making an account on the website, knowing he'd be gone for most of the year at Hogwarts and unable to use it, but he did make notes from the useful guides and some of the tools that the members had been using.

That night when he got back to Privet Drive, he stole his first razor blade and spent half an hour breaking it apart, cutting his thumb slightly in the process. He dumped the plastic parts in the rubbish over a period of a week to not seem suspicious, but the blades! Oh, how they were sharp. They split the skin open so wonderfully, the cuts already deeper than with the knife, which he'd eventually returned to the cutlery draw after thoroughly cleaning it.

He used to use a sock or two to clean up the minuscule amount of blood but when he used the razor blades, the cuts seemingly bled more and hurt more, but it was exactly what Harry was looking for. The thought of putting the blade back into the cut and pulling it across his skin made him cringe, but he eventually plucked up the courage to do so. Within the span of a few weeks, he'd progressed from mere superficial cuts to deep, wide gaping ones, with fat cells poking through the cuts. He'd stolen some gauze and bandages from the shops when he went shopping for his aunt and that was that. No one knew what he did. When he was at Hogwarts, he took the razor blades with him, stealing new ones in the summer when his old ones went blunt, using magic to wrap them up and glamours constantly as to not be found out. He went from doing it every few months to multiple times a week, needing medical attention and stitches by at outside point of view but it never felt enough to Harry. Each cut needed to be deeper than the last, or it was a bad cut.

He knew what he was doing was dangerous, borderline life-threatening, especially after nicking a few veins in some of his cuts, but the thrill was part of it. He didn't really like healing the cuts, but lest he wanted an infection, he had to be diligent about it all. Now, he had numerous thick scars on every limb of his body, calves, thighs and upper arms included. When he couldn't cut, he'd punch himself or scratch instead. Considering he had no lasting damage from his self harm, he wasn't about to stop any time soon. In fact, he didn't even want to. The pain kept him sane, alive, and focused. There was nothing better, nor equal, to making himself bleed, even if it led to weeks of healing and occasional blood loss and headaches.

Now that he had his wand back, he could summon some razor blades again and did just that. Immediately he took to his left arm, pulling the blade across fast. The cut split open into the styro layer - the dermis, he thought. He put the blade back in the cut and pulled it again, heart thumping in his chest at finally being able to cut himself again. He needed this. He repeated the action again until he could see the yellowy fat bubbles poking through his skin, at which point he'd normally stop, but it wasn't enough. He put the blade back in, pushing down hard and dragging it down his arm. Blood immediately spilled out, splitting open the fat bubbles, deeper than he'd gone before.

He breathed a sigh of relief, dropping the blade onto his bed and letting the cut bleed. It wasn't life-threatening or even bleeding too much, but it was definitely deeper than he'd gone in the past. He was almost proud of it, actually. Finally, he used his wand to clean the blood and summoned to bandages, wrapping them around his still sluggishly bleeding cut and curled up under the covers, dropping into sleep with a slight smile on his face.


	6. chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> my apologies, it's been so long. my laptop broke and i finally mustered up the motivation to write this chapter. unfortunately, i had to write it on my phone. mistakes are expected, pleasr forgive me.
> 
> this chapter is also short as fuck. again, my apologies. i'll get a new laptop soon.
> 
> also, i promise i'm in therapy lmao. got a few comments concerned about that but i deleted them because i wanted to. :) warning again, for mention of suicide and self harm in this chapter. it's not great, but it's good as a little filler, i guess. thanks again. 🖤

Harry awoke the next morning, his arm burning but his mind clearer than it had been in days. Rubbing the gunk from the corners of his eyes, he sighed, careful to not jostle his arn too much. This is what I've come to, he thought, careful to not let his eyes linger on the stark white bandage wrapped around his thin arm.

Dinky, true to her schedule, popped into the room seconds later and Harry jumped to cover himself with the duvet, feigning sleep. The small house elf shook him 'awake,' blinking.

"Master is waiting for you, Master Harry," she said, before leaving just as quickly as she came.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. It was much too close for comfort - what if she had told Tom? Or worse, the news got back to Bellatrix? He could only imagine the utter embarrassment and shame he'd face. No, he thought, it's better to keep it hidden. None of their business, anyway.

He clambered out of his luxurious 4 poster bed, dressing quickly in his robes, taking care to tuck the edge of the bandage under his sleeve and made his way to the usual room.

Bellatrix was there again, but this time, Harry felt even less animosity towards her, knowing the truth now. Since last night, a burning rage had been settled in the bottom of his stomach but as usual, he compartmentalized, ignoring it and looking at the situation rationally. Dumbledore was manipulative and evil, stealing memories and manipulating others. His friends weren't his friends, Sirius was murdered but not by Bellatrix and Voldemort was suddenly the good guy.

Would he ever catch a break?

Unlikely, he thought, pulling out his chair and sitting down heavily, unable to look at either Tom or Bellatrix. No words were said and breakfast was eaten in relative silence, save for the occasional scrape of a fork against ceramic.

The food tasted like ash in Harry's mouth, tainted by the knowledge that his mind had been repeatedly violated by Dumbledore. Was any of the last 5 years real? Who can he trust now?

He put his cutlery down, resting his arms in his lap, one hand gently pressing onto the open cut. He breathed deeply, closing his eyes, feeling that rage dim to a low burning flame, ever present, but not taking over. He refused to let his emotions overwhelm him, knowing it wouldn't be good in the long run. What help would he be if he couldn't look past his anger and sadness, grief and betrayal? 

"Harry?"

He opened his eyes again to see Tom and Bellatrix looking at him, something akin to concern in their eyes. Is it real? Harry thought, shaking his head minutely.

"Nothing," he replied, separating his arms. "What now?" he asked.

Tom looked at him for a moment, eyes curious, before blinking and turning away. "Now, we train you," he said, simply.

Harry's brows furrowed. "We?"

"Yes, Bella and I. We're going to train you. Even if you don't turn 'dark'" (he said this whilst using air quotations marks, looking remarkably Muggle, Harry noted) "you still need to learn how to control your magic again, especially without the blocks. We also need to teach you more spells, Dark or otherwise. Whether you like it or not, Harry, this is a war. Neutral doesn't exist anymore. Neutral means you're on Dumbledore's side. Are you really going to stand by and watch him ruin your life, all for the sake of fulfilling a prophecy that isn't real? If you were still under his influence and had killed me, do you really think he wouldn't take the credit for it and cast you aside? Don't be dense."

Harry sat forward, fingertips gently touching his wand, anger encompassing his mind. "I won't fall prey to your manipulations too, Tom. I won't kill Muggles or Muggleborns and I certainly won't become one of your little Death Eaters. Dumbledore isn't good, but neither are you. Or did you think I'd forgotten about my relatives currently locked in a cell below us?"

At this, Bellatrix giggled. "They're fun to play with. They break so easily, so quickly."

Harry's eyes narrowed at her, determined to not rise to her bait. Instead, he turned to look at Tom. "I thought you fixed her insanity," he muttered.

"We did. That's just Bella being Bella," he said, dryly. "It's irrelevant anyway. I know there's a darkness inside of you, Harry, and so do you. Choosing to ignore it will make you complacent. If you're going to do that, you might as well go crawling back to dear old Albus."

"I'm trapped here!" Harry yelled, pushing back in his chair. "Even if I wanted to leave, you won't let me. I've gone from being a weapon for one Dark Lord to another."

Tom's hand was suddenly wrapped around his throat, fingers pressing against his windpipe. "You are alive because I made it so," he whispered, eyes blood red and cold.

"I didn't ask for this," Harry said, raspy and breathless.

"I don't care," Tom replied, hand tightening. Harry's breath caught in his throat and his eyes widened. Fuck, was Tom going to kill him? He distantly heard Bellatrix laughing but he couldn't even be mad. The whole situation was rather comical, wasn't it? Harry asked to die by the one person he was sure wanted him to die, but now he was being forced to live. If he broke that Oath, his magic would be gone, the one thing he loved in life.

"Okay," he said - or at least, tried to.

Finally, the hand was gone and he slumped backwards in the chair.

"You are mine, Harry Potter, for as long as you live. You *will* fight for me and obey me, or I will kill those little friends of yours. What are their names... Longbottom and Lovegood?"

Harry shut his eyes as tightly as possible, shaking his head, wanting to be anywhere but here. Had he made a mistake, agreeing to that oath? Disappointment after disappointment, his life never being his own.

"Alright, fine. I'll fight for you, Tom, but I still won't be killing anyone at your whim."

Tom smirked, leaning back in the tall backed chair. "An oath is an oath, Harry. Now, Bella here will be testing your magical limits for today. It will be physically and mentally tiring, but you won't be doing anything tomorrow."

Harry sighed and nodded, standing from the table and following Bellatrix from the room, ignoring the look that the two shared. He'd have to find a way to bypass the Oath some other time. Surely there was a loophole in it that allowed him to die regardless. Even so, if he did fail and lose his magic, he could always kill himself anyway. First, though, he wanted Dumbledore dead, maybe even Weasley and Granger too.

A year ago, he would've never thought that but after the events at the Ministry and some hard thinking on his part during summer, things with Dumbledore just didn't add up and recently revealed information clearly tapped into his 'darker side,' or whatever Tom called it. Maybe he did have the capabilities to turn dark and his morals prevented it. What would be so bad about letting that rage and darkness take over though, he thought, what consequences would outweigh those of remaining Neutral and separated from reality?

"Nothing," he whispered, "nothing at all." He grinned, gently shaking his head, feet automatically following after Bellatrix. Nothing. Hah.


	7. chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i am So Sorry, it has been literal months since my last update. got caught up in college work, took a dive into becoming a weeb again, procrastinated a lot. i missed this story though and thought i might as well continue.
> 
> i'm failing college and becoming a professional clown (derogatory) now though so i have plenty of time to kill.
> 
> this chapter might be a little boring as not a lot happens, but TW for suicidal thoughts at the end.
> 
> (fixed the chapter names too, NO idea what happened there.)

4 or so hours later, Harry finally trudged back to his room, just as mentally and physically weary as Voldemort said he would be. Not only was sane Bellatrix weird, but she was also a decent teacher. And sure, there was no actual physical altercation, but his magic had been through a lot in such a short span of time.

She led them to a compact and protected room, so protected that Harry felt the hairs on his skin raise when he crossed the doorway - potent magic, Bellatrix said, when she saw his shiver. Wards upon wards that prevented any magical assault from reaching the rest of the manor.

Strangely enough, at first, she had him meditate whilst sat on the floor in the middle of the room. Now, Harry wasn't one for fidgeting and shuffling in his seat, especially after his upbringing of being forced to _sit still, you freak, before I hit you with this pan_ , but focusing in that room took all of his mental willpower and then some. Bellatrix's presence alone was enough to make him wary of closing his eyes, but the fact that he was situated in Riddle Manor didn't help either. Nevertheless, he closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. Every time he nearly fell asleep, Bellatrix would tap him and he'd jolt awake. Her instructions of, 'find your magical core within your mind' didn't mean anything to him. The hell was his magical core?

He'd asked just as much and grimaced at her tutting.

"Your magical core is the very centre of your magic, where it is most powerful and dangerous. Pure magic, with no restraints or blocks. Tapping into it allows you to test your magical strength, fix any imperfections and other things we'll cover at a later date."

Throughout her explanation, Harry's brows furrowed. Why did they never cover this in Hogwarts, anyway? There was no reason not to. Then again, with that bumbling fool as a headmaster, it's anybody's guess as to why not.

He focused again, the utter silence making his ears ring. Would he ever be able to calm his mind enough to find it?

Surprisingly enough, yes.

He gasped aloud when he saw it, warmth immediately filling his body.

Pure white light, blinding and yet so comforting, right there in his mind!

Bellatrix hummed from somewhere in the room, but Harry paid no attention to it, mentally reaching out a hand to the pure magic core, tears filling his eyes at the overwhelming sensation of warmth and sheer power.

Happiness, sadness, grief and pain, every emotion possible ran through him all at once, in its purest form.

"Focus, Harry. Don't get lost."

He nodded, or at least he thinks he did. He tuned in to the outside world again, ready for Bellatrix's instructions.

"You see it, right?" Harry nodded again and she went on. "That, Harry, is your magical core. Beautiful, isn't it?" The reverent word sounded odd coming from Bellatrix, but he just nodded in agreement. "We're in this room to give your magical core a chance to stretch out and expand after its magical blocks. It is, however, very dangerous. People have lost themselves to their core before, permanently, and are sat in St Mungos in the mentally broken ward. I can pull you out if necessary, but that could be more detrimental to your mind in the long run."

Harry swallowed, mind sharpened. He may want to die, but becoming a vegetable wasn't on his bucket list.

"Imagine your body in your mind, there with you, physically." Harry did so, picturing his body stood in that plane of darkness, in front of his core. "Look closer at the core. Do you see the strands of magic?"

He squinted at it, eyes hurting a little at the brightness, but there! He could see it! Tendrils of all shapes and sizes weaving in and out of each other, top to bottom. Some were thicker than others, but they were all as equally bright as the rest. He nodded, hands outstretched to the core.

"Place your physical hands on the floor of the room." Doing so felt odd, trying to distinguish between the ones in his mind and his actual hands. He did it nevertheless, trying to stay present in his mind. "Now with your hands in your mind, reach out and grab the strands of magic. Gently, mind you. Don't want to tug on them."

Touching the strands was even more overwhelming and he nearly cried out - not in pain, just the simple fact that he was holding pure magic in his very hands. Warmth spread from his hands to the rest of his body, travelling down to his feet. His mind whited out too, every conscious thought escaping him. He could bask in it forever.

"Focus!" Bellatrix shouted, and he snapped back as soon as he left. "Keep holding on to those strands, don't let go. I'm going to step out of the room and when I do so, exit your mind. Remember, keep holding onto the strands. Yes?"

He nodded quickly, a sudden nervousness filling him. Why would she leave? What was going to happen?

"Alright. I'll be back. When the door shuts, leave your mind. Slowly, no point in rushing it. And keep holding on!"

With that, the door slammed behind her and Harry was left sitting in the room, tenderly holding onto his magic. How was he supposed to leave? Open his eyes and be done with it?

Well, what else was he supposed to do? He focused again, this time imagining himself back in the room, palms down on the floor and legs crisscrossed. Slowly but surely, he exited his mind, almost as if he was walking out. Throughout, he kept the strands clenched in his fists.

As soon as he left his mind, he _felt_ the difference, the presence of himself in his mind no longer there. Instead, he felt the rush of magic shooting down his arms from his mind, down to his palms and into the room itself, diffusing through the floor. The utter rush of power and strength knocked the breath out of his lungs momentarily, causing him to wheeze a little, but it passed quickly.

He opened his eyes gradually, unsure if he'd done whatever it was Bellatrix asked him to. With his eyes open, he could feel the room was different too and if he looked closer at the walls, he could see something shimmering across them, like a wave of glitter and sunlight, moving on its own.

He stood up, looking at all the surfaces and noting the same thing on all of them.

"Uh, Bellatrix?" At his shout, the door opened again and Bellatrix joined him in the room again.

Suddenly, she whistled, seemingly in surprise. "That's some magical core you've got, Potter."

At the praise, he flushed scarlet, sheepishly rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "Thanks, I guess. What did I just do? What's that on the walls?"

Bellatrix pulled out a parchment from somewhere in her robe, opening it and placing her wand in the centre. "That is magical residue, left over from when you released your magical strength from your core. Placing your hands on the floor allowed you to release it into this room safely, without injuring anyone else."

Harry looked confused. "How would it hurt someone else? It's just magic, right?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes, muttering about the 'shitty teachings' at Hogwarts, before answering his question with an exasperated tone. "Pure magic is very dangerous, Harry. It could boil or disintegrate the very water in your body, cooking you alive, or turn your blood to ice within your veins. It could even cause your bones to break uncontrollably, to the point of no repair. The pure strength and potency are dangerous, although not usually to yourself. If I was in the room when you did it, I could be dead. In fact, there was a high chance I would've died, with the magical strength you possess."

His eyes widened at her words, mind attempting to compute the fact that magic was simply that powerful. It would, however, explain the fact that magic was able to do anything and everything he could think of in that moment.

"How come I didn't get injured?" He asked, watching as she waved her wand over the parchment and dropped it on the floor, a bright white flash coming from it. "And what was that?"

"Your magic knows who you are, Harry. It's sentient, to a degree. That's why the wand chooses the wizard, and so on. And I was wiping the excess magic residue from the walls, so it doesn't stick and become permanent or escape throughout the Manor.

Yet again, he was confused, but maybe he'd asked enough questions for today. Sentient magic, boiling someone alive, magical cores, it was all very new to him.

"Why did we do it, though?"

"Well, reach within your mind again. Do you see your core?"

Harry didn't close his eyes, but mentally felt around again and surprisingly, yes, he could. It came naturally now as if it was always there. How had he never noticed it before?

"There were no imperfections or anything?" He shook his head in reply, not even sure what they'd look like. His core looked pretty perfect, to him. "Good, that means my Lord removed all of the blocks. Releasing your magic, as I said, allowed it to stretch too. It's good to do it every now and then, just to make sure any accidental magic doesn't hurt someone around you. That, and I bet magic comes more naturally to you. Try it," she gestured to him, "cast a simple spell."

Shrugging Harry fished out his wand from his inner pocket, holding it out in front of him.

"Lumos," he said, but instantly shouted, "Nox!" at the sudden influx of brightness in the room. That was his magic now?!

A simple Lumos spell turned into something so powerful and bright, with no difference in his casting at all. The entire room lit up as if lightning was flashed throughout the room.

"The hell?" He muttered, looking at his wand with something akin to awe.

"Your magic is stronger than you think, Harry," Bellatrix said, making a face that Harry couldn't quite work out. He nodded shakily, pocketing his wand again. "Do you feel exhausted?"

Now that she mentioned it, it felt like his legs were going to buckle underneath him. He wordlessly nodded again, his head suddenly swimming. He went to rub his face surprised at the wetness - had he actually cried, _again_? That was embarrassing as fuck.

He shook his head to dispel the thoughts, focusing on Bellatrix again.

"Rest," she said. "We'll talk more tomorrow." With that, he left the room slowly, glancing back at her to watch her pick up the parchment on the floor, holding it, face aghast. Huh. He was too tired to care what that was about though, and simply left to his room.

Upon returning, he collapsed onto the bed immediately, pulling the soft covers over his body, slipping into a deep sleep.

-x-

The next morning came quickly, even if he hadn't been awake for much of yesterday. His muscles felt achey, but his mind fared much better. The sleep probably did him good. He reached out for his glasses, but they weren't there. Where the fuck..?

He looked around with his blurry vision the best he could, before rubbing a hand over his face. The action was, however, obstructed by familiar metal frames over eyes. _What the fuck?_ He was still wearing his glasses? Did he even take them off last night?

He yanked them off his face and suddenly, his vision was perfect. Sliding them back onto his face, it blurred again. Taking them off - everything was clear. Had his eyesight _healed_? Was that even possible? He rubbed at his eyes, sitting up properly and tried it again.

Nope, still blurry with his glasses on. Something was wrong... that shouldn't be possible. He'd worn glasses for nearly his whole life and overnight, his eyes healed? Either way, Tom must have some answers. He left the glasses on the bedside table, face feeling weirdly naked without them.

He changed his clothes quickly, remembering to change his bandage but when he unwound it, he found something even more surprising; the wound was gone. Not even a scar remained, although the rest of the scars were still there. Did he suddenly gain insane healing powers or something? He doesn't even know any healing spells! Miffed at the lack of a scar from his biggest cut yet, he finished getting changed, pocketed his wand again and left the room for breakfast.

Dinky hadn't even been there this morning, but maybe Tom trusted him to get to breakfast on his own now. 

He waited at the usual door for the command to come in, then sat at his normal chair. Bellatrix was absent this morning, and he found himself a bit upset at that, wanting to thank her for her help yesterday. And wasn't that a weird thought...

"No glasses?" Tom commented, already eating his breakfast.

Harry merely shook his head and reached for the food. "Don't need them anymore," he muttered, confusion evident.

Tom nodded though as if he expected it. "May I perform a full body scan to ensure nothing else occurred?"

At first, his heart jolted, wondering if the wounds on his arm would show up, before remembering that they healed too. Then he was surprised that Tom asked for permission. Surely he'd just go for it, consequences be damned, right? Either way, he nodded and sat back in his chair. Warm magic rushed over his body and a parchment appeared in Tom's hand, writing filling out as the scan continued.

Finally, the scan ended and Tom placed the paper down, reading over it. At one point, his brows furrowed and Harry gulped, wondering what it'd show, but then his forehead smoothened and he moved on.

Harry kept eating as Tom read, determined to not be Crucio'd for another time by trying to read over it too. Sure, maybe he's genuinely being treated well, but it wouldn't be a good idea to rock the boat in such treacherous waters just yet.

"Well," Tom muttered, "as it turned out, your eyesight wasn't the only thing that was healed."

Harry's stomach plummeted and he gingerly put down his knife and fork, trying to keep a neutral face.

"Oh?" He said, wincing at the croak in his voice.

"Mm. Plenty of old bone fractures, hairline, clean breaks and dislocations, which I will assume are from your time with the Dursley's." He didn't phrase it as a question, but he was right anyway. He was still pretty young when his Uncle broke a bone for the first time, but it didn't really stop him. If anything, seeing the pain visibly only fuelled his anger onwards, knowing he had an effective punishment for his freaky nephew. "There's something else, though. But I think you know what it is."

_This is it,_ Harry thought, _I'm done for. He knows, he fucking knows. He'll see how weak I am and break the Oath, or toss me in the dungeons, or just kill me immediately. Wait, I want him to do that though. Shit._

Clicking in his face brought Harry back and he swallowed the food threatening to come back up.

"Uhm, no," he said - or tried to. It came out at the volume of a whisper. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Tom hummed again, before sitting back in his chair and merely looking at Harry as if he was seeing right through him. Harry stared at some point in the back of the room in silence, determined to not look Tom in the eyes. He might not know a lot about Legilimens and its use, but he definitely didn't want Tom to know the extent of his self harm.

The silence quickly grew awkward before Tom broke it by vanishing the paper on the table with a wave of his wand and standing. Harry jumped at the sudden movement, finally looking Tom in the face.

"You healed as a result of the release of magic yesterday." His voice was cold, as cold as it was when he arrived at the Dursley's the first time just a week ago and Harry paled. Did he do something wrong? He was gonna sic Bellatrix on him, wasn't he?

Tom turned and left the room, the door slamming into the wall as he left, leaving Harry sitting in silence, heart pounding faster than it'd ever been before. He hadn't seen that level of anger in a while. Not even facing Voldemort at the graveyard left him this scared; at least then, he'd been out in the open. Now he was in the snake's den, right in the jaw of the great beast and he had no way of escaping. No matter what, he was going to be swallowed whole.

The door shut again, causing Harry to jump. He breathed deep, trying to calm his heart, before standing too and leaving the Hall. He didn't go back to his room, yet. He wandered the empty, quiet halls of the Manor, losing himself to his thoughts.

Where did everything go so wrong? Dead parents, orphaned at 15 months old, left with the abusive Dursley's, self harming at the age of 10, manipulated by Dumbledore and the Weasley's, Sirius' death still hanging over him, a fake prophecy that caused it all and now, he was wandering Riddle Manor, his biggest secret revealed to his biggest enemy. Or, prior enemy. That title belonged to Dumbledore now, the one man he thought had saved him.

Harry knew that deep down, he wasn't a good person. His mere existence caused a lot of pain. He tried to make the best of it, gaining friends and knowledge and magic and _happiness_ , but was it really worth it in the end, when it was all fake anyway? He even thought he'd found some form of kinship with Tom, but it appears he had once again ruined everything around him. What a surprise.

Part of him wishes he could be a normal boy, a Muggle, nothing extraordinary or unusual or _freakish_ about him, but most of him? Most of him wished he'd died along with his parents.


	8. chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uhm, have another chapter a little treat, no? :))

Somewhere in his walk, Harry must've stopped to get some sleep on the floor in some nondescript corridor in this giant manor because the next thing he knew, he was wrapped in someone's arms, bridal position, head lolling where it lay. His eyes caught paintings and doors as the person holding him walked throughout the halls. The arms burned where they touched him, trails of blazing fire running behind his thighs and across his shoulder blades because _touch wasn't good, touch brought pain and nothing else_ but he couldn't move, emotionally and physically exhausted for what felt like the 3rd time in a week. His lungs burned, every breath feeling like his chest was being crushed. His eyes slid closed again as the walking slowed, but he didn't care anymore, slipping into a sweet, dark slumber.

Maybe it'd be easier to breathe when he woke up again, even if he wished he wouldn't.

-x-

Unfortunately, he did. In his bed this time though, an upgrade from long arms that wound around his body uncomfortably and _hurt_ , even if the touch was gentle, more gentle than he'd ever expected. Thinking rationally, it was probably Tom that carried him back to his room, with the only other occupant of the Manor being Bellatrix, whom he doubted could lug around his body. The thought disturbed him slightly, but more than that, it made him want to cry and he didn't even know why.

His eyes were already sore and gooey, probably from yesterday. He wasn't sure how far he'd walked around the Manor, but he didn't stop for what felt like hours, thought after thought running through his mind, urging him to slam his head into the nearest solid surface, but numbness and bone-deep pain and exhaustion somehow preventing that intrusive thought from going any further.

He never crossed anyone on the journey, not even another elf or moving painting. In all, it was bliss. The most peace he'd ever achieved. When he remembered why he was walking around, however, his body shuttered and he turned inwards, one fist clenching at his thin shirt and his other digging into his scalp.

Why couldn't anything ever go well in his life? Pain after pain after pain, making him wonder whether the infrequent moments of happiness were even worth it. Some may say something like, 'to the lives you've saved, the hearts you've touched, it was worth it,' but Harry never saved anyone. He killed them instead. His hands were dirty with the lives of Sirius and Cedric and his parents and if he'd just been a _little_ better at magic, a little stronger, they would probably stil be alive today. He's depraved and disgusting and he deserves nothing but pain and death, but why won't Tom give it to him, the one person he expected it from?

The kindness hurts. He'd never received kindness in his life. Not from Dumbledore, not from the Dursley's and not from his friends; any kindness they gave him was undone when their true intentions were revealed. But the kindness he'd received from Tom, matter the reason, caused a physical ache deep inside his heart. Beautiful clothes and food, a manor to stay in, releasing him from Dumbledore's grasp, capturing his Muggle relatives, and for what? _Harry_?

It just didn't seem right. No one's ever gone that far for him, but _Voldemort_ did. Thinking so much made his head hurt and so did lying in the bed gracefully given to him. He sat up, rubbing his grimy face and decided a shower was needed.

He stripped his robes slowly, not surprised to note the lack of his wand. No tools that way, no way of hurting himself. He missed it like a missing limb these days.

Harry made his way into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, finding a towel already tucked into a cubby hole in the wall. He filled the bath with warm water and sunk down till just his head stuck out, finally allowing the tears clinging to his lashes to fall down his cheeks and into the water below.

This time, he took note to look at each and every inch of his body, down to the mole on his right knee and the pock marks on his upper arms. Everywhere he looked, he saw scars, a myriad of colours, some inches in length and some inches in width. He could remember most of them. Some of them were too faded to see. He didn't like it when they faded.

He took note of his bones, which ones stuck out and which didn't, saddened to find not many visible anymore. Tom feeds me well, he thought, bitterly. Breakfast was pretty much always in the hall, but the other two meals of the day were normally taken in his room, Dinky bringing him anything of his choice from the kitchens, wherever they were.

He felt atrophied.

Nothing made sense anymore. He didn't even feel real most of the time. Dark became Grey, Light became Dark, Bellatrix and Tom gave him comfort and strength and hope and Dumbledore gave him a dead godfather and about a hundred blocks on his mind and magic. Who was he? Where did he belong now?

He distinctly remembers Tom saying that he was a Slytherin, but he'd known that for a long time anyway, mind always going back to the night he was Sorted. _You could do great, you know_ , he was told. Should he have believed the Hat? Maybe then, he wouldn't be in this mess. He doubted it, but it was a nice bitter thought.

Maybe life isn't for everyone. Maybe some people aren't meant to be born, wires crossed and stars unaligned, they were simply a mistake. A bad creation. A monster.

The thought used to hurt him, but he finds some comfort in it now. Maybe he was meant to be a monster. Maybe he belonged on the Dark side. Realistically, it almost sounded pathetic and cringy, even in his own head, but he'd felt more comfortable and protected at the manor than anywhere else on earth. Not even Hogwarts felt this safe, something underlying and filled with tension around every corner. Too many attemps made on his life for one castle alone.

Harry finally clambered out of the bath when his fingers pruned and his body felt much cleaner. His mind was as dark as ever, but that felt normal now.

He wrapped the towel around his waist, barely glancing at his pale face in the mirror on his way out.

Sat on his bed when he went into the bedroom, however, was Tom.

He was sat back against the headboard, eyes closed, looking as relaxed as ever.

Harry stumbled in his pace, nearly tripping and face planting on the floor but he managed to catch himself. It made Tom wake up from wherever he was though, opening his blood red eyes and locking them onto Harry.

And oh, Fuck, his arms and chest were bare. Everything was visible. Harry swallowed, blushing, spinning around where he stood. Nothing was said, till Tom finally stood up from where he was lounging and rummaged in some drawers, pulling clothes out and laying them down.

"Get dressed," Tom muttered, "I won't look."

Harry nodded, obedient as ever, not realizing that Tom couldn't actually hear a nod, but went over to the bed and hesitantly dropped the towel, pulling the clothes on as fast as possible.

He did notice afterwards that he wore a short sleeved shirt and no robe, meaning his arms were still open for the world to see - well, Tom, but that was bad enough.

"Uhm, done," he said quietly, watching Tom turn around from where he was stood looking out the window.

His eyes immediately went to Harry's arms and he fought the urge to hide them behind his back, but what good would it do now? Every pink and white and red line was visible, every bump and ridge and indentation, whether he wanted it or not.

Tom pulled a chair close to the bed, gesturing to the edge of the mattress and Harry sat down. Tom followed, sat a mere half of a metre away, closer than he would've liked.

They sat facing each other for what felt like hours, the air thick with tension. Who would break the ice?

Tom, apparently, with a voice so quiet and dark that it took Harry back to the night in the graveyard. He pushed down the flinch that the memory brought him and looked down to his knees and hands folded on top of them.

"When?" He merely asked, confusing Harry. Tom seemed to realize and reaffirmed his question. "When did you start?"

"Uhm, about 6 years ago," Harry replied, hesitant.

Tom seemed to wither away in front of him and Harry sat a little further back, the air easier to breathe.

"Who else knows?"

Harry laughed humourlessly at the question. "No one," he replied, "not even Dumbledore. You are the lucky first."

Tom sighed deeply and it suddenly struck Harry how different he seemed from yesterday morning.

"Where did you go yesterday?" The question came so suddenly and left his mouth quicker than he could think and immediately, he winced at the Crucio that was sure to come his way, clenching his eyes shut.

Nothing happened.

Harry opened his eyes again, to see Tom looking at him with something akin to pain.

"It doesn't matter," Tom finally replied. The oppressive silence came back and Harry nodded, fingers trailing up his own hand to rub at the scars. They became itchy sometimes, but it wasn't one he could scratch. It felt layers deep but no matter how hard he scratched, he could never reach it. He resorted to rubbing instead. It was soothing too, in some weird and twisted way.

He felt Tom's eyes follow the movement of his hand. Was he realizing how weird and freakish Harry actually was?

A hand came into his peripheral and Harry immediately moved away, before remembering his place and forcing his body to still. Tom's hand didn't touch him though, hovering above his arms.

"I am sorry," the former Dark Lord whispered.

Sorry, _what_?

"What for?" Harry asked, utterly bewildered.

"I have killed people, Harry, for merely being in my presence and yet I am weak against you. My Horcrux, my soul. My broken soul. I am sorry that I didn't return to you earlier." The words sounded pained and lost and Harry felt the urge to comfort the man - monster, he reminded himself - in front of him.

"What are you talking about?"

Suddenly, the man became animated, sitting up straight. "Harry, I look at you and all I see is pain."

"W-what?" Harry croaked, swallowing, mouth suddenly dry.

"You hurt everywhere, don't you? I thought it was merely the woes of a teenager at first, hormones and whatnot, but you really hurt, don't you?"

Harry looked around, suddenly feeling embarrassed. What was going on? Was he supposed to reply?

"I guess?"

"And that is why I am sorry. I am not a good man, Harry. I never have been. It brought death and destruction upon town after town and I enjoyed it, but looking at you in front of me, I feel pity. I feel regret and guilt."

Harry shook his head, genuine surprise showing on his face. "Why?"

"I made you into a Horcrux. I killed your parents. I have hurt you more than anyone, haven't I?"

And whilst Harry didn't want to agree, he knew it to be the truth. He nodded slowly, looking down in guilt.

A hand reached out and fingers were placed under his chin, skin burning where he was touched. Had he ever been touched physically this much before? Tom tilted his head to look into his eyes again, but Harry felt no press of Legilimency on his mind.

"I am sorry."

The words should've brought comfort and acceptance, but all he felt was bitterness and tears welled up in his eyes, as if he hadn't cried enough for today.

"You can't change the past. Maybe one day I'll forgive you, but that day is not today. You aren't all to blame either. Dumbledore is just as bad, if not worse. My pain is not your burden alone."

Tom nodded and released his chin, seemingly comforted by Harry's reply. "Thank you," he said, sincere.

Harry nodded uncomfortably, sitting further back in the bed. He still didn't like being so close to Tom.

"Do they hurt?" Tom gestured towards his arms, wand in hand.

"No," Harry replied, "and nor does it hurt to make them." Tom winced, remarkably human today, before putting his wand away. Speaking of, Harry sat up.

"Where is my wand?"

Tom blushed, but passed it off typically nonchalant, looking around the room. "Oh I, uh, took it from your pocket when I brought you here yesterday."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "So I couldn't hurt myself?"

Tom nodded once, sharp. No one had ever taken away the things he used to hurt himself before and he didn't quite know how to reply. Should he be angry, or grateful? He let it go for now, knowing he'd find a way to bring that pain to his body somehow.

"What do we do now?" Harry asked when the silence dragged on for a little too long.

"I must confess, I don't know," Tom replied, almost looking out of depth. If all it took was a little self harm to turn the genius into a nervous wreck, I should've spoken up sooner, he thought sarcastically. "I want to continue to train you, in both Potions and Offensive Magic, and Bellatrix will teach you regular spells and academics. Would you accept our help?"

Harry shook his head again, confused. "Why are you doing all of this? Why treat me with such kindness and help me? Why bother when all I asked for was death? Why give me a room to sleep in, food to eat? Why bother to train me at all?"

"Harry, you are a formidable wizard, even if you don't realize it. I am not the man I was at the start of summer, but then again, neither are you. I am treating you with the bare minimum of politeness, as you should treat a guest. And by the way, this is my bedroom you're sleeping in, not some random room in the Manor."

At that, Harry's heart stopped. " _What_ did you just say? I've been sleeping in your bed for a week?"

Tom nodded, a slight smirk on his face. Harry blushed bright red again, groaning slightly and putting his head in his hands, embarrassment filling his entire being.

" _Why_?" Harry implored, looking up with a grimace on his face.

"I must admit, you're the second guest to ever step foot in this Manor. Only two of the rooms have any furniture in them; mine and Bellatrix's. And my office, of course. I brought you here at first because there was nowhere else to take you but after that, I just left you here."

Harry nodded the explanation, some of the embarrassment dissipating. "That's why I woke up and you were staring at me," Harry said, under his breath.

This time, Tom nodded, no regret or shame anywhere to be seen.

"Why didn't you just conjure or transform another bed?"

Tom rolled his eyes, sitting back in the chair. "I _am_ human, Harry. I simply forgot. Busy with other things, you realize."

Harry shrugged, accepting the answer. "I suppose I'm moving out then?"

Tom shook his head. "No, it's fine. I don't mind sleeping in my office," he replied, before standing up, "this room is warded so that you can't leave unless I allow you to."

And suddenly, Harry remembered something. Why the everliving fuck did he not try to find an exit yesterday when wandering around the Manor? Even if he couldn't leave, he could've spent the time mapping out the hallways, but no, he just decided to dissociate and walk till he dropped instead. He internally rolled his eyes at his actions, finding he didn't actually regret not finding the front door to the ridiculously large building. Some fresh air would be nice though, Harry thought.

"Join me for breakfast," Tom commanded, and took his leave, waiting for Harry outside. Harry looked down at his bare arms, fear filling his body. He'd never gone this long without covering his arms before. Swallowing his fear, he nodded, joining Tom's side and walking quietly to the large hall.

-x-

Over the course of the next week, Harry was taught many things by Tom and Bellatrix and they fell into some sort of schedule. They asked what he'd already learned in-depth, and went from there. Mornings were spent with Tom, either down in the Potions lab (admittedly, making nothing lethal and poisonous ingredients and knives hidden away) or learning Offensive spells. He liked the mornings because it meant he could use his wand, even if he had to give it back at the end of the sessions. Even learning dark spells and dangerous potions didn't dampen the fact that he was thriving under Tom's tutelage. Afternoons were spent with Bellatrix, either reading books upon books or practicing simple spells. Some seemed useless, but Bellatrix took the time to explain how each one could be useful in the future. She even had him start at the basics with some spells, taking the time to get used to his new magical strength and how to use it in a calmer and gentler way. All in all, they were pretty effective teachers and he usually felt just enough exhaustion at the end of the day to collapse into bed without a second thought.

About halfway into the week, he wanted to ask about Hedwig and her whereabouts, but he almost felt cheeky. The thought that she might be dead nearly kept him awake at night and by the end of the first week, he felt comfortable enough to ask where she was. Thinking about Hedwig got him thinking about the outside world and the Order too. What was even going on out there?

One morning, in the presence of Tom and Bellatrix at breakfast, he finally asked the questions he'd been burning to ask.

"Uhm, where's Hedwig?"

He saw Tom visibly search his mind for a moment before a metaphorical light bulb went off above his head. "The snowy owl that delivered your letter? She's in the Owlery with the rest of the owls."

Immediately, Harry felt immense relief. His first friend, his only friend, was still alive. He sagged in his chair slightly, a smile coming to his face.

"Am I to assume you want to see her?"

Harry shot a hopeful look towards Tom, wanting more than anything to see her but not wanting to risk undoing all the work he'd done to stay on Tom's good side. Sane or not, Crucio's were still Crucio's. Maybe that made him as bad as Dumbledore deep down, but Harry was still considered a prisoner here. At the same time, he wasn't sure if he'd leave, if given the option. Where would he even go? The Order? Back to Dumbledore? Not likely.

Tom nodded, conceding. "Alright, I'll take you to the Owlery after breakfast."

Harry nearly cried in relief, about to get on his knees in thanks. "Thank you so much," he decided on, with the most sincere tone he could muster.

He could see Bellatrix smile from the corner of his eye, but it didn't seem malicious or bad, just a smile. That was weird too, Bellatrix actually being nice and borderline _motherly_ to him, in her own special way.

Breakfast couldn't go any slower after that but he sat as quiet as he could, not wanting Tom to suddenly decide he didn't want to. It finally ended though and Harry shot out of his seat, ignoring Tom's chuckle at his enthusiasm.

He led them down corridors still unfamiliar to Harry, Bellatrix left to her own devices.

When he reached a large door, Tom stopped, reaching out a hand and grasping Harry's shoulder. "I hope you realize that by doing this, I am extending an olive branch by trusting you to not somehow leave the grounds. Just know that if you do leave, I won't stop hunting for you. I _will_ find you, wherever you go."

And how fucked up was Harry, for being comforted by that thought?

"I don't want to leave," Harry confessed quietly, preening under the pride on Tom's face.

Tom nodded, not releasing his grip on Harry's shoulder before pushing the door open. After two weeks inside, Harry nearly cried at the breath of fresh air that reached him. Being on a tiny island, it was still cold, even in the summer months, but Harry had never been so grateful. Tom's hand on his shoulder grounded him, pushing his forewards to the tower in the near distance. It was a short walk and in that time, Harry looked around his surroundings. The island truly was isolated, in nearly every direction he could see. He couldn't see any land on the oceanic horizon, although he couldn't see around the other side of the Manor.

Soon enough, he was at the Owlery, Hedwig mere feet away. He couldn't contain his excitement, nor the large grin growing on his face. Tom seemed to take pity on him and slid the door open, closing it behind them before finally dropping his hand from Harry's shoulder. Inside the owl tower was a surplus of owls, but they were well-cared for and clean, kempt and happy.

His eyes darted around, looking intently at each white owl before he heard a familiar hoot from above. He held his arm out and clicked, and suddenly, his vision filled with white feathers and he was nearly deafened by screeches. That... that sounded like Hedwig.

Amused by her antics, he giggled, reaching out his other hand to stroke down her back and wings.

"I've missed you, Hedwig," he whispered, happy tears in his eyes. And god, would he ever stop _crying_ in front of other people?

"I should've brought you sooner," Tom muttered from beside him, but Harry didn't care, just glad he'd brought him either way.

"Thank you for not harming her, Tom," Harry said, not noticing Tom's weird look at the use of his name.

"I'm not an animal abuser, Harry," he said in reply, turning away from the sickeningly sweet reunion occurring right in front of his eyes.

"Right, sorry," Harry said, shamefully. Tom didn't reply though, leaving Harry to have his moment with his owl.

"I'll be back later," Harry said to Hedwig, cuddling closer to her before letting her fly off into the depths of the tower, watching her go. He felt a little more complete and at peace within his heart now, a little more like he could keep going. Free serotonin, if you will.

"Thank you, really," Harry said, smiling gently in Tom's direction.

"Uh, no problem." Tom was taken aback by the glowing wizard in front of him, a little uncomfortable by the utter happiness being directed his way.

He grabbed Harry's shoulder again, leading him away from the Owlery, no resistance on Harry's end. Good.

As Harry stepped through the wards into the Manor, it felt less like a march to death's row and more like stepping into his new, slightly unfamiliar home. And weirdly enough, Harry found that didn't actually mind it. When was the enemy nest suddenly where he felt most comfortable? Harry ignored that thought, floating on a happy high, nothing able to ruin his good mood.


	9. chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter,,, is nearly 7000 words,,, the fuck,,,,,,,,
> 
> anyway, i hope it's alright lol. thank you for everyone that comments, they motivate me to keep writing this fic!! this is also longer than my longest finished fic (19k words) and i don't even think i'm half way through the plot.
> 
> but yes, please keep reading!! much love!! :D

A few hours later, still riding that high of seeing Hedwig for the first time in two weeks, Harry was stood at a potion lab bench, slowly stirring a cauldron of suspiciously neon green liquid clockwise. His arm muscles burned on the 40th rotation of the glass rod, but he pushed forward, watching carefully as Tom's pale fingers chopped ingredient after ingredient. They were making energy replenishment potions or something... Harry hadn't really paid attention to what he was saying, which wasn't exactly out of the norm.

Harry still had plenty of questions to ask but wasn't sure when the right time to ask was. Settling on just one for now, he propped his chin on his hand, gathering the confidence to speak up. "Uhm, Tom, what date is it?"

"August 15th, why do you ask?"

Harry blinked. Then blinked again. August 15th? His 16th birthday passed by, and he didn't even know. He'd surely expected Tom to mention it, even in passing. Had he really been at the Manor for nearly two whole weeks?

"I hadn't realized I'd turned 16," Harry muttered and saw Tom shake his head from the corner of his eye.

"I thought you'd at least keep track of the date," Tom said, neither amused nor angry. A neutral tone, no emotion at all. It was creepy, the way he could do that.

"I would go back to Hogwarts in a few weeks too," Harry replied, immediately regretting opening his mouth when Tom looked up sharply from whatever poor creatures organs he was harvesting.

He remained quiet for a moment and Harry kept stirring the cauldron. "Would you want to go back?"

This time, Harry looked up in surprise. "Uh, sure I would, but I'm not safe from anyone there. Except for Luna and Neville," he finished, under his breath.

"We could make it so Dumbledore can't harm you," Tom said, seemingly to himself, before he continued his chopping motions, picking them up and dropping the mess of liquid and soft tissue into the cauldron, not blinking as the neon green turned to toxic yellow, bubbled for a moment before resting again. Throughout it, Harry kept stirring.

"But you can't even trust me to have my wand yet, how am I supposed to go back to Hogwarts without my wand?" Harry protested, for _some_ reason, as if he was the sane one in the room.

Tom sighed deeply, dropping all tools and waving his hand, a large bubble forming over the top of the cauldron. Harry stopped stirring finally, recognizing the stasis charm, and stepped away from the cauldron.

"I want you to stay alive and well, Harry. I don't want you to hurt yourself anymore." He turned his beady red eyes to Harry, capturing his gaze and even though Harry wanted to look elsewhere, he couldn't.

"I know. I need it though, I can't live without it. I don't know what living without it is like anymore." He hadn't meant to let that slip out, but honesty is the best policy, especially with someone that can enter his mind and see the truth for himself anyway.

Tom shook his head minutely again, before stepping away from the desk and leaving the lab, knowing Harry will follow. He led them to his office, gesturing for Harry to sit at the chair in front of his desk. Tom sat down heavily and for once he seemed like he felt all of his years old and more.

"I want to bring the Death Eaters back to the Manor," he started, ignoring Harry's wide-eyed look. "With Hogwarts reopening, we need to plan something for the future. As for your safety, we should make a fake backstory for what happened to you this summer, without revealing what actually happened. Perhaps we could create a fake long-forgotten family member, or choose a distant one from either of your family trees. Preferably the muggle side, your mother's side, as the Potters were well known. I could pose as a Muggle to Dumbledore, hide my core and my looks with glamours and take you back to Hogwarts myself under the guise of the relative."

Harry clenched his eyes shut, the stress of the whole situation suddenly getting to him. "You'd go to all that trouble, just for me to go back to Hogwarts?"

Tom sat back, gaze boring into Harry. He remained quiet, a silent debate in his head, before coming to some agreement. "The other missing Horcrux is located in Hogwarts. The one I couldn't find."

Harry stared back at Tom for a moment, before breaking out in humourless laughs. "Oh, the fucking irony," Harry bit out through his laughing, hands gripping the seat. "You want me to find it for you."

Tom nodded once, wand suddenly in his hand. "And you'll help me, won't you."

Once again, it was a question posed like a command, the underlying threat evident to Harry. The Oath meant he'd have to.

Sullenly, Harry nodded, resigned to his fate.

Tom grinned, sharp white canines and gums peeking out. "We'll discuss more about the Horcrux later. For now, we need to decide on a relative to forge. I can send a Death Eater to Gringotts to get your family trees printed, but in the meantime, we need to decide what actually happened and how you disappeared, along with the Dursley's."

At the mention of the Dursley's, Harry shuddered, dreading to think if they were alive or dead. Had Bellatrix gone too far and snapped their minds with her torture? Probably. Thinking about it made his brain ache even more, to be honest.

"Uh, we could say that you arrived on my 16th birthday and took me back home with you, as I was of age to leave. And that the Dursley's disappeared soon after, wanting no part in the war, especially with their connections to me."

Tom nodded slowly at his words. "And we could say that we know nothing of how the Auror got killed - perhaps we claim that Voldemort did that after the wards fell, but that you were already gone. It would fit within the time frame of your disappearance."

Harry agreed, but something stood out. "How do we claim you're a long-lost relative that knew of my existence?"

Tom rested his chin on his hands, leaning forward. "We could say that I performed a Muggle DNA test and found out I had unknown sides of the family and through my own research, found out about Petunia Evans and her son and their whereabouts. Upon seeing the squalor and disgusting conditions that you lived in, I took you in, as you were still my blood relative that had just turned 16."

"But what about you knowing about magic?"

"Well, we could say that there's another Muggleborn in the family too or find a Squib relative. We'll have to cross that bridge when we decide on which relative to choose from. Either way, it'll have to be someone of age, someone that wouldn't already know about your existence, just your Aunts, and somehow hide the real relative, if they already exist."

Harry grimaced at the last part, wondering if 'hide' meant kill, capture or just hide their existence from Dumbledore. The plan itself was filled with holes, really. Dumbledore was clever, too. He could just as easily find his family tree and check for himself, but if he played it convincingly, maybe it wouldn't come down to that.

"What if he tries adding more blocks to my mind or magic, or sees that the previous ones aren't there?"

"Well, I could say that I took you to a healer for your injuries sustained at the Dursley's and that they found the blocks and removed them, as you are of age now and your magic no longer needed to be restrained."

"Wouldn't these healers be suspicious about the blocks?"

Tom grinned. "Sure they would, but if Dumbledore asks that, it'd just make himself look suspicious. My experience tells me he'll panic and try to find these healers, but it'll be even better when he realizes they aren't real."

Harry, even though he wasn't one for being spiteful and conceited, grinned too when he imagined the panic and paranoia Dumbledore would experience at that.

"We'll put your lack of glasses down to the healers too. I can help teach you Occlumency, or I can bring Snape in to do so-"

Harry launched out of his chair immediately, slamming his hands down on the table. "Not Snape," he pleaded, "please, anyone but Snape. I'd rather Bellatrix do it than Snape!"

Tom looked taken aback by the desperation in his voice for a moment, before waving his hand in the air and Harry was forced down into his seat.

"Why don't you want Snape to teach you?"

Harry groaned, realizing he forgot to mention the fiasco with Snape entirely. "Dumbledore had him try to teach me Occlumency last year, but he was terrible at it. Just yelled, 'clear your mind' at me before assaulting me with Legilimency, again and again. He was a dick about it."

At his words, Tom rubbed a hand over his face, sighing again. "You are aware that Snape has the Dark Mark, right, Harry?"

Harry nodded slowly, glad it was confirmed but having known to an extent.

"Are _you_ aware that he's a spy?" Normally, he wouldn't go about throwing people under the bus, but Snape was akin to Voldemort in his eyes, in terms of being the worst people in his life. Relentlessly bullying students, targeting Harry, assaulting his mind, unfairly treating Gryffindors, the list went on. If anything, he wanted Snape to suffer.

Tom nodded, sighing for the third time today alone.

"Yes, Harry, I am aware of everything that happens with my Death Eaters. Snape isn't a very good spy, to be honest. He's too close to Dumbledore. Even if he doesn't know that the prophecy is fake and about the mind blocks and so on, we all know he isn't a good person."

You're one to talk, Harry thought, sarcastically, but saying that thought aloud was sure to be certain death, even with the level of comfortability they'd reached. Instead, he agreed quietly.

"So you'll teach me Occlumency?"

Tom nodded. "Even if you don't manage to entirely block your mind in the next few weeks, I can enter your mind too, as we've proven at the Ministry, and erect a wall myself. It'll be stronger than any wall Dumbledore can get past, but it won't last forever. As for your magic, concealing your core would be the best thing to do. Bella tells me you are quickly getting used to your new power levels-" Harry blushed at the praise, unusual from someone like Bellatrix, "-so it probably won't be physically noticeable when you cast spells. If anything, you'll just excel now, like you should've done from the start."

"How will I communicate to anyone outside Hogwarts?"

"As your relative, I can meet you any time I desire on the weekends, under the guise of course. Throughout the week, I can set up two-way communications, such as a journal or mirror, for convenience. I want you to continue to update me regularly whilst there, especially on the finding of the Horcrux."

"Do you know what it looks like? The Horcrux?"

Tom nodded, face becoming serious. "It's the Diadem of Ravenclaw. Its whereabouts, however, I have no idea. I distinctly remember hiding it where no one would accidentally come across it, but other than that, it could be anywhere."

Harry sighed at the lack of information, accepting the fact that every spare moment he had would be spent looking for this thing. Well, he thought sardonically, it's not like I have any friends to spend it with. "What do I do with it when I find it?"

"Conceal it and tell me. That weekend, I'll take it and bring it back here."

"Will its presence not be noticeable to Dumbledore?"

"You're a Horcrux and he hasn't noticed yet," Tom said, dryly, "unless he does know and is choosing not to tell you. There's no reason for him to know though. Speaking of, I did some research on why the scar no longer hurts in my presence and it could be something to do with how my soul is mostly intact now and previously, the Horcrux was yearning to rejoin the remains of my soul, causing you great pain. The mental-bond we share will probably be stronger too, but trying it might be detrimental yet."

Harry nodded at the explanation, wondering where Tom would even be able to ask questions like that. Surely no one had ever made more than one Horcrux before, especially not a human one, but who was he to judge?

"You'll be able to tell what is a Horcrux and what isn't. Maybe your scar will hurt, maybe your magic will feel for it. Either way, you should be able to know when you're closer."

"What do I do about Ron and Hermione? And the rest of the Weasley children?"

"Didn't you say they broke the friendship off anyway?" Tom said, paying great attention to his immaculate cuticles, magic suddenly becoming oppressive and overwhelming. Was that _bloodlust_?

Harry inclined his head, confused. "Yes, true, thanks for that reminder. Do you want to kill them, by any chance?"

Tom looked up, eyes holding a great amount of anger. "I want to kill everyone that has ever caused you pain, Harry, my soul. Everyone."

Harry's eyes widened at the confession. "Um, alright," he replied, "I... don't know how to reply to that. Thank you?" He phrased it like a question, unsure whether he should actually be thankful that someone was looking out for him that way. Maybe it was just Tom's odd way of showing affection? Either way, he didn't want to look too closely at it, already afraid of his ruined sanity.

"When are the rest of the Death Eaters coming?"

The anger dissipated, leaving behind a normal cold and calculated Tom. "Later tonight, before dinner. Most of the inner circle will be staying after, but the rest will leave to their own homes."

Harry winced. "And who's in the inner circle these days anyway?"

Tom smirked, noticing Harry's dislike. "Antonin Dolohov, Bellatrix LeStrange, Lucius, Draco and Narcissa Malfoy; Rabastan and Rodolphus LeStrange, Wormtail and Augustus Rookwood will stay behind, whilst Severus Snape, Corban Yaxley, Crabbe and Goyle Senior, Walden MacNair, Avery and Nott will leave, with other business to attend to."

A fair few of the names were unfamiliar, but the Malfoy's and the LeStrange's stood out. Wormtail, though, now he definitely had a bone to pick there.

"Fuck, there's so many I don't like," Harry said, groaning. "My good day is ruined. Are they gonna know I'm here?"

"That's up to you," Tom said. "Don't tell anyone this or I will Crucio you into next year, but I have plans to disband most of the Death Eaters anyway. They don't align with my future plans for the Wizarding World anymore and they're too stuck in their own ways to change."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. " _What_?"

"I'm saner than I was, Harry. I want to rule the Wizarding World the way it should be, not with the death and destruction of Muggleborns and Half-Bloods. That'd be hypocritical, considering I too am a Half-Blood, and they strengthen our bloodlines anyway. Most Pureblood wizards and witches descend from the same few wizards, such as Merlin or the Founders. At least, in the UK they do. Fresh blood is better."

Harry blinked a few times, taking in the information slowly. Tom truly had gone from a murderous machine to clever and rational in the span of 4 weeks. It really did boggle his mind, the leaps and bounds he'd gone through.

"Damn. I didn't expect that."

Tom rolled his eyes, moving on. "Do you want the Death Eaters to know about you?"

"Tom, I don't even know what's going on in the outside world. Do they think I'm dead? Captured? Missing?"

"Well, the Daily Prophet reports that you're missing, but I'm sure most, including the Order, think I took you and killed you. The wizarding world is in pandemonium, everything the same but shifted just slightly to the left, fallen without their martyr. They were holding out hope you'd kill me again, even without the prophecy. Fuck knows what Dumbledore thinks."

Hearing the curse word coming from the normally refined wizard made Harry smile slightly, but he had other questions.

"Well, what will I tell the Death Eaters anyway? 'Hello, I'm not joining your side but I'm too suicidal to leave of my own volition, would you pass me the gravy boat please'?"

Tom tried to hide his smile at the words, shaking his head. "No, Harry. I'll tell them I've taken you as a prisoner."

"And what about the fact that I have no wand? The first thing they'll do is try to attack me."

"They're a little cleverer than that, Harry. They're not my inner circle for nothing. They're obedient and will listen to whatever I tell them. We'll need to have them swear an Oath to not reveal your location though, so just the inner circle will know you're here. You can stay in my bedroom when the rest of the Death Eaters arrive."

Harry nodded, relaxing a little. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he actually didn't mind that he was stuck living here. Safety, food, comfort, good lessons in magic, albeit slightly immoral and dark magic, what more could he ask for? He didn't want this safe haven to be destroyed by some lippy little Death Eater.

"Do they know what you look like now? How will they react to your newfound sanity?"

"The inner circle do, but most don't. As for that, I'm sure most of them will prefer me this way anyway. If I wasn't sane, you'd be dead and I'd have stormed Hogwarts by now. And if they disagree with anything I say, well, there's a Killing Curse and a Torture Curse for a reason, dear Harry." The evil grin growing on his face should probably scare Harry but more than anything, it made him roll his eyes in exasperation. Since when were his morals so thoroughly destroyed as to not care when the literal Dark Lord made death threats in front of his face?

"Anyway, let's get started on some Occlumency. We'll start at the basics..."

-x-

5 hours later, Harry was back in the bedroom, ear pressed to the door, listening as Death Eater after Death Eater Apparated into the Manor and wandered down the hallway, passing by. There were lots of jovial greetings, a few fights and plenty of curses thrown, but they died down as soon as they entered the grand hall. Tom had shown him the hall a few hours ago, saying that dinner would take place there too, but Bellatrix would collect him for that.

After an hour of listening, the apparitions died down and the Manor went quiet. He assumed the meeting had begun. 

Harry collapsed back onto the bed, trying to push down the thoughts of it being Tom's bed and not some random conjured bed as much as he could. After the Occlumency session, Tom had erected his own wall in Harry's mind, in time for the meeting with the inner circle and said he would put it up again before he went back to Hogwarts.

He'd already got down the basics of Occlumency in the session, faring much better under Tom's teaching than he did under Snape's. After Occlumency, he had another lesson with Bellatrix. Whilst boring in comparison to those with Tom, they were still pretty interesting. He'd probably read and analysed more books in the last two weeks than he ever had in the last 5 years at Hogwarts and he was pretty proud of himself. He'd grown closer to Bellatrix too, but he refused to even dare think of it as anything like friendship yet. She was kind to him though, especially after she'd seen his arms that fateful morning, just under a week ago. Harry didn't appreciate pity, but it wasn't pity that she gave him. Something like sympathy and understanding.

There was a lot of insults thrown both ways in Bellatrix's lesson and if someone told him a year ago that he'd be joking around with Bellatrix LeStrange in Riddle Manor, he'd laugh in their face and check them into St Mungos himself. As it was, the whole situation was surreal but Harry didn't like existentialism, so he deigned to not think about it too much.

Harry had learnt more about Potions, Offensive Magic and general spells in the last week than he ever thought he could. It gave him a way to stop thinking about the bad thoughts too much too, so that was an unforeseen bonus.

Nothing had exactly changed in the last week, but he was slowly but surely learning more about himself and who he actually was. His wrists and thighs itched for the press of a blade a little too much, though. He'd resorted to punching and pinching himself in the especially difficult times, hoping Tom wouldn't realize that he could still find ways to injure himself without his wand.

His summer homework was finished way too quickly, meaning he'd started reading the Riddle Library books willingly out of sheer boredom. The extent of Dark Magic was something Harry would never think about in the past but after lessons with Tom and Bella, he'd actually started seeing its benefits and how magic itself wasn't inherently dark _or_ light, it just depended on how you used it. A strong enough Lumos could blind someone, whilst spells that usually cut the skin would be useful in surgery, or even a Wingardium Leviosa could levitate a wizard and drop them to their death.

He'd go to Hogwarts this year armed with more magical knowledge than most students, a new armada of spells in his mind and a new appreciation of what was considered dark and light magic.

A sudden knock brought him out of his thoughts. Had he really been thinking for that long?

"Come in," he said, hoping it was Bellatrix at the door.

Thankfully, it was. She was decked out in her usual long black dress, black curly hair pulled back into its usual mess. She didn't really look any different than normal, which put Harry off a little when he was sat in her lessons, but her eyes no longer held the same anger and insanity that they did before.

"C'mon Harry, it's time you showed your face." 

Harry sighed, sitting up and walking over. "Did the rest leave?"

Bellatrix nodded, ruffling his hair before handing him a black robe.

He batted her hand away playfully, taking the robe with his other hand, thankful for a chance to cover his arms. The last people he wanted to know would be sat around the dining table tonight, namely Snape and Draco.

Bellatrix grinned, linking arms with him and pulling him out of the room, off down the hallway. Harry rolled his eyes at her antics, nervousness growing deep down.

When they reached the doors, Bellatrix pulled out her wand and a month ago, Harry would've ducked for cover but these days, he just looked at her with one eyebrow raised. She cast a few spells silently.

"Just a few glamours to make it look like you've been through some torture," she said, a little too happy for the words coming out of her mouth. "Wouldn't want them to think we've been treating you like a normal guest, would we?"

"Alright," he replied, acquiesced.

With that, she gripped his bicep in one hand, pointing her wand at his head with the other. "Look scared, Harry," she whispered, before slamming the doors open.

Harry did as she asked, putting his head down and making himself smaller like he would at the Dursley's.

As soon as the pair entered, the room went silent, almost painfully so. Bellatrix 'pulled' him to the chair beside Tom, forcing him to sit down before 'sticking' him to the chair. Then, she went and sat down. Throughout it, Harry kept his head down, maintaining a facade of fear. Under the table, Tom's knee knocked into his and he fought the urge to smile.

Soon, whispers broke out amongst the rest of the table occupants, Harry picking up things like, 'is that Potter?' and 'what the fuck is going on?' 

"Ahem," Tom coughed and the table immediately fell silent again. "As you can see, Harry Potter is in our midst."

The cold voice reminded Harry of how it was when he first arrived at the Manor and he shuddered slightly.

"He is mine. You will not touch him, with magic or your hands, or I will take them both from you. Before the end of dinner, you will all make an Oath to remain quiet about his location, or I will kill you myself. After letting Bellatrix at you, of course." His smooth and sensual voice was the only thing heard in the room, even as he spoke quietly.

Harry ignored the burning sensation in his chest at the first few words Tom said, allowing his eyes to slide shut, a few tears leaking out and dripping onto his hand. If Harry was good at one thing, it was maintaining a mask on the outside. After all, he'd been self harming and suicidal for 6 years and no one picked up on it yet - other than Tom, he reminded himself.

No one else spoke, leading Tom to click. Food appeared on the table, although Harry's area was left empty. Damn, he couldn't even eat? What fuckery is this?

Suddenly, he heard a voice coming from _within his mind_. What the fuck?

 _'I apologise for the lack of food. I'll have Dinky send something to your room for when we're done.'_

It was clearly Tom's voice he heard, so Harry came to the conclusion that he was using the mental bond to communicate with him. 

He searched within his mind for whatever it was that Tom used to speak directly into his mind, finding it quickly. Similar to his core, the bond appeared as a thin white strand, joining from his core to somewhere off in the dark distance. He metaphorically touched the strand of magic and weirdly enough, he felt an influx of emotions he was sure wasn't his own. Amusement was the most prominent.

 _'You found that fast,'_ Tom commented in his mind, pride filtering through.

 _'This is insane,'_ Harry replied, or at least, he thought he did. How did this bond even work?

 _'Hm, it is, isn't it? I wasn't sure whether it'd work, but at least we have a way of communicating without them knowing.'_ Harry wasn't exactly sure how he felt about Tom's voice being projected into his mind, clear as glass and just as loud as it normally is. He wasn't exactly hearing it with his ears though, it was as if the thought was being directly pushed into his head.

 _'Please don't utilize this to torture me constantly,'_ Harry said in his mind, half-serious and half-sarcastically. He felt amusement coming through the bond again so he let go, releasing the two-way communication.

 _'Of course not,'_ Tom said, not too convincingly, before also dropping the communication.

Harry turned his focus to the outside world again, feeling confident enough to look at the people around the table. The Malfoy's were easy to spot, their platinum blond hair standing out. Draco kept shooting glances his way, but his mother and father were determined to ignore his presence entirely. Perhaps Draco would need another reminder.

Snape was sat down near the end, face more pallid than usual, hands shaking. Harry could see the barely-concealed surprise on his face and if he was being honest with himself, it brought him great joy. Across from him was Bellatrix, conversing with two others; presumably Rabastan and Rodolphus LeStrange. He didn't know how they were related, but if he were to guess, they'd probably be siblings to each other and cousins to Bellatrix. Or maybe even siblings with Bellatrix too. It was really too hard to tell. Maybe one of them was even married to Bellatrix or married to each other. They all look too similar, Harry thought, dryly. Black hair, black clothes and demeanours that made them all look more like triplets than anything.

Wormtail was easy to spot too, his ratty face and hands eating more animalistic than human-like. Barely contained rage bubbled to the surface and Tom must've noticed, for he felt a hand wrap around his knee under the table, gripping tight. Harry flinched a little, hopefully not enough for it to be noticeable though. It wasn't a threat, perse, just enough to tell him to not act on his emotions. Instead, he continued looking around the table. The hand left his knee soon after, but it left a burning imprint in its place. Would Harry ever be able to get used to being touched in a normal way, or would it hurt forever?

He didn't know what Antonin Dolohov, Augustus Rookwood, Corban Yaxley, Crabbe and Goyle Senior, Walden MacNair, Avery and Nott looked like, but he was sure he could guess a few. Crabbe and Goyle Senior looked way too close to their Junior counterparts, all the same, large size and dumb attitude. How they were in the inner circle, he had no idea.

That left Dolohov, Rookwood, Yaxley, MacNair, Avery and Nott. From what he remembered, there was a Theodore Nott in Slytherin, but none of the others had children in Hogwarts. Either way, the rest were dotted around the table. One was sat directly to his right, with Tom to his left at the head of the table, but he had no idea which it one it was.

The meal passed relatively quietly, with any loud shouting or laughing coming from the LeStrange's in front of him, quickly silenced by a glare from Tom. Towards the end, Harry looked in Snape's direction again, only to see him staring back with his obsidian eyes.

They gave nothing of his emotional state away, but Harry could feel something in his mind, like an intrusion. Or an attempt at one. The wall that Tom put up must've done its job because the feeling soon retreated and Snape looked away, desperation showing now. He gripped the fork tight in his hand, clearly coming to the conclusion that he wouldn't be able to take this information to Hogwarts. As far as he was concerned, Harry was a prisoner to Lord Voldemort and there was nothing he could do about it.

When the last person finished their meal, the plates disappeared again and everyone turned to look at Tom.

His mere presence demanded the attention of the entire room, especially with his new aristocratic look. It was natural for Harry now, but he was sure it'd take the rest of the Death Eaters some time to get used to it.

"I assume you have some questions. You have three minutes to ask them," Tom said, looking around to each member.

Lucius was, unsurprisingly, the first to speak up. "My Lord, why is Potter still alive?"

It was clearly a question they all wanted answering for every one turned to look at Tom. The man in question raised a single eyebrow before leaning back in his chair.

"He's alive because I want him to be," Tom replied, and clearly everyone thought that was a bit of a shit answer, even if they didn't say that. Harry would agree with the rest of them, how was that an answer? Better than telling them the truth, he supposed.

"My Lord, where is Nagini?" The interesting question came from the man to his right. It was a good question though, where _was_ Nagini? Harry knew she was originally a Horcrux, but surely she'd be a real snake too. He made a mental note to ask about the Parseltongue he'd gained too.

"Nagini is dead. Do you miss her, Dolohov?" Tom asked, grinning madly.

Dolohov, the man finally given a name, shook his head quickly. "No, My Lord, I do not." Harry would've thought he'd say yes, even to appease Tom, but apparently, this man had some balls on him.

Tom didn't seem bothered though, giving a real chuckle this time and Dolohov relaxed a little. "Neither do I."

Harry knew that Snape was burning to ask questions too, but that meant giving away his position as a spy so for once, he kept his mouth shut and stayed in his place. Good, Harry thought, bitterly.

"If that's all, we should move on. As you are aware, I am no longer the person I used to be. I have regained both my appearance and my sanity, although some of you may argue otherwise on the latter. My original plan in this world was to cleanse the Wizarding line of its impurity, rid the world of all Muggleborns and Half-Bloods, but I must confess that my plan has changed. I would like to rule the Wizarding World how it should be, instead of allowing it to continue to suffer under that pariah, Albus Dumbledore. I do not, however, wish to do this without my inner circle. If you want to leave, you have my permission, but if you do, you will never step foot out of this Manor again."

At the threat and revelation of the new plan, many sat around the table shuddered and sat back in their chairs. Harry sympathized with them, just a little; they joined this cause over 16 years ago with the aim of taking over the Wizarding World by force, even if some stayed out of fear.

"The premise is the same; cut down anyone that stands in our way, such as the Order of the Phoenix, and any Aurors that resist. Along the way, I will kill Dumbledore myself. Is that clear?" Each and every person nodded, whilst Harry made a show of putting his head in his hands, releasing a few quiet sobs. Secretly, he was laughing, but to everyone else, he made it look as if he was defeated and sad at the prospect of Dumbledore's death.

"Good," Tom said, in a pleased tone. "We'll flesh out the plan at a later date. Before anything else, I will need each and every one of you to make an Oath with me. One after the other, I will have you come to me and make an Unbreakable Oath." A few around the table paled at that, namely Snape and Draco. Maybe they'd never made an Oath before.

With that, Tom stood up and made his way to the throne at the back of the room that Harry hadn't even noticed. A _throne_ , that's pretty funny. And cringe. He hid his silent laughter, before hearing a voice in his mind.

_'Stand up and walk over to kneel by my side. It'll be pretty derogatory, sorry about that. It won't be for long.'_

Harry internally rolled his eyes, accessing the bond again and following his orders. To make his injuries a little more believable, he limped as he walked. _'You owe me for this, you dick,'_ he mentally replied, sinking to his knees next to the throne, ignoring the laughter coming through the bond.

He felt everyone else's eyes on him as he kneeled, even hearing Bellatrix's gleeful laughter. What a prick, Harry thought, also laughing a little at the scenario.

"Snape. You must be eager to return to Hogwarts, so you may take the Oath first." 

Snape inclined his head, bowing slightly. "As you wish, my Lord." He slowly walked up to the throne, eyes never leaving Harry's prone form. He rolled up a sleeve to make his Dark Mark. Tom grasped the Mark, causing it to flare up. Snape held the wince it must've caused, though.

"Repeat after me. 'I swear on my magic and soul to not reveal the whereabouts of Harry Potter, the wellbeing of Harry Potter and the plans for the future to anyone outside of this room, nor will I be able to tell anyone that I have seen Harry Potter, in speech, writing or thoughts. If I break this Oath, I will lose my magic and my soul. So mote it be.'" Harry's eyebrows raised at the Oath, knowing it left no leeway for Snape to tell Dumbledore where he was. Damn.

Snape knew that too, judging by the small grimace he gave. Now, how on earth would he get out of this?

"'I swear on my magic and soul to not reveal the whereabouts of Harry Potter, the wellbeing of Harry Potter and the plans for the future to anyone outside of this room, nor will I be able to tell anyone that I have seen Harry Potter, in speech, writing or thoughts. If I break this Oath, I will lose my magic and my soul. So mote it be.'" Once the last word was spoken, lines of white and black magic wound around both Tom and Snape's joined arms, before searing into place, snapping the Oath into a permanent state.

Tom chuckled lowly in his throat, Bellatrix echoing it with her own maniacal laughter.

Their arms separated slowly and Snape stepped away, shakily. He shot Harry another desperate look, one that screamed, 'I am sorry.' Harry made himself look back with pain and betrayal, internally laughing at the look on his face. Fuck, that was ironic. Snape, feeling sorry for him? Perfection.

With that, he swept away, hot-footing it from the room, slamming the door shut behind himself.

Tom laughed again, a hand reaching out to run fingers through Harry's hair possessively and yep, Harry was definitely going to kill Tom later. Cheeky bastard. He accepted it either way, looking down again.

"Draco, come here and repeat after me..."

Oath after Oath was made, Unbreakable and ensuring Harry's safety for the time being. Each and every occupant in the room took the Oath, including Bellatrix, although Tom knew she wouldn't tell anyone anyway. She was faithful like that.

Soon, they were left in the room alone, with Harry still kneeling by Tom's side, hand wound in his hair.

"Thank you," Harry muttered, although he wasn't sure why. Maybe the fact that he didn't throw him to the inner circle like the pathetic wizard he was and he actually went through with making the Oath made him grateful.

He felt the hand pat his head gently before leaving, Tom standing up, stretching in place.

"C'mon," he said, helping Harry up and placing an arm over his shoulder. "You need to get something to eat."

Harry nodded, weirdly flustered with all the human contact he was receiving, following Tom from the room.

What a long day it's been, Harry thought.

On the way to the room, they didn't pass anyone now staying in the Manor, thankfully. They were probably on the other side of the Manor anyway. Harry yawned as he walked, excited for a bit of food before getting some much-needed sleep.

Tom took him to his door, seeing him inside before leaving, shutting and warding the door closed. Damn.


	10. chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> say it with me folks, "this is fiction, it isn't real."
> 
> tom is pretty OOC here but like,,,,,, it had to fit into the story so idc.  
> i gotta catch up on college work now. :((

Draco wasn't all that surprised when his Lord inducted him into the inner circle; after all, with both his mother and father there too, what else was he to expect? The Dark Mark throbbed frequently under his sleeve, still raw and healing, but he felt immense pride every time he saw it. Knowing that his father was finally proud of him was a good feeling too, although he wouldn't admit that any time soon.

At the start of the summer, his father brought him straight to Riddle Manor instead of Malfoy Manor, his home, before handing him some beautiful dark robes and quickly briefing him on what was going to happen; he'd receive the Dark Mark from his Lord, obey every order and follow the lessons he'd been taught since childhood. In the end, he hadn't even protested. Why would he, when he had a chance to achieve great power under the Dark Lord?

For Draco, it was a big jump from not being told anything about the meetings his parents left the manor for to suddenly being in the meetings, amongst the most powerful wizard quite possibly on Earth. At last, he felt like he could live up to the Malfoy name. Seeing his godfather there too helped, even if he had to leave to return to Hogwarts soon after. Their relationship had always been very amicable and good and he fondly remembered the hours that Severus spent teaching Draco potions as a child.

And now Draco was sat at the long table in Riddle Manor yet again, a mere two weeks before returning to Hogwarts, unable to take his eyes off Harry Potter, sat only 4 seats down the table, mere inches away from his Lord.

_When the fuck did this happen?_

Draco knew, of course, that Potter had been missing from his muggle home for some time now but the last place he would expect to see him was here, in Riddle Manor, in the hands of his enemy. Every tabloid that witches and wizards could get their hands on had Potter's ugly mug plastered all over the front. Dumbledore tried time and time again to placate the masses but it was clear even he was panicking, losing hope after two weeks of nothing.

After all the work that Dumbledore had gone through to hide Potter from his Lord, it was almost laughable. He would've expected his Lord to kill him immediately, like his father, but he wasn't one to question the judgement of Lord Voldemort, right? 

As intimidated as he was by the threat of harm from his Lord, Draco couldn't help but stare at him - split lip, black eye, a bruised jaw, strangulation marks around his neck, looking as meek and thin as ever, Draco just had to wonder, how did his Lord even pull this off? Draco ate slowly, listening to the chatter from Aunty Bella on one side and Severus conversing quietly with Rookwood on his other side. His mother and father didn't say anything at all, content to eat in silence. The atmosphere was tense and no one was willing to break it.

Harry didn't raise his eyes from the table to look around once, face depicting nothing but utter dismay and grief, even breaking into tears when his Lord made the threat against Dumbledore.

Draco had always hated Potter, ever since he refused to shake his hand on the basis of Slytherins being _evil_ nearly 5 years ago. How childish was that? Draco was sure, at the time, that ginger Weasel was poisoning his thoughts against anyone and everyone, as if he had a good opinion on the wizarding world at the mere age of 11. It sickened him.

He remembered his first meeting with Potter when getting his robes fitted in Diagon Alley. Without the ginger prick by his side, he was remarkably clever and quick, not judging nor refusing to talk to Draco, but as soon as he'd got on the train and mixed with _them_ , everything went downhill from there.

Draco hated Dumbledore too. He didn't even respect the man, knowing as soon as he took the House Cup from Slytherin where his loyalties lay and it wasn't with each and every house in Hogwarts. Not only did he have clear favourites, but he was also biased and unfit to run a school. The number of attacks on the school under his ownership itself should've suggested new management, even Draco could see that. His power with the Wizengamot meant nothing happened so far, but Draco heard through the grapevine that his 6th year might end up slightly different and he couldn't be more ecstatic.

As soon as the meal at Riddle Manor finished, each and every Death Eater in the inner circle was to take an Unbreakable Oath in order to not reveal Potter's whereabouts to anyone outside of the room. 

Severus took the Oath first but after, he looked unusually pale and shaken, nearly dropping his wand on his way out of the Manor. Draco tried to meet his godfather's eyes as he left but he heard a sultry voice calling for him instead.

"Draco, come forward and repeat after me..."

Draco did as he asked, watching with rapt attention as the Oath was made permanent, feeling its magic settle just under his skin. Even when taking the Oath, he couldn't take his eyes off Potter on the floor, kneeling as still as a statue by his Lord's feet, tear marks smearing the blood across his face. His Lord's other hand was wrapped tightly in Potter's unruly brown hair, distinctly possessive and yet also demeaning. Draco revered his Lord for his strength, honestly, almost jealous that he had broken Potter so thoroughly and quickly.

When Draco stepped away, his father gripped his shoulder tightly, nodding at him, pride in his eyes. Instead of smiling like he might've done maybe a year ago, Draco schooled his face into a mask of impassiveness, nodding back and falling in line with the rest of the Death Eaters.

-x-

Severus was in the middle of potion-making when he felt the familiar burning of the Mark under his sleeve, the summoning call from the Dark Lord nearly causing him to drop too many dried leaves into the cauldron. He hissed lowly, one hand reaching out to grip his sleeve whilst putting the ingredients down with his other, waving a hand over the cauldron and ensuring the stasis charm would last a few hours at least.

Then, he grabbed his wand and changed his robes quickly, exiting his rooms and thoroughly locking his doors behind him, pacing it to the Hogwarts entrance. As he left the castle, he saw Albus in one of the rooms in the upper towers and nodded at him, stepping out of the wards. He apparated away, appearing at Riddle Manor mere seconds later.

The rest of the Death Eaters were making their way inside too and he followed them slowly, nerves brewing inside his stomach. He passed the Malfoy's on his way in, nodding to each of them.

These meetings weren't taken lightly, to Severus. Too many Crucio's left him ensuring his potion cabinet was stocked with pain relievers and potions to help with the aftereffects of the Torture Curse.

It wasn't just the inner circle of Death Eaters tonight apparently, spotting the Parkinson and Greengrass families making their way into the Manor too. They were led into a large hall, slowly filling with more and more Death Eaters. He stood amongst them, silent and unapproachable as ever. It wasn't that he hated these people, as murderous and rude as they were, but they definitely weren't the best conversationalists around, he thought, eyeing the LeStrange trio in one corner.

Soon after the doors closed, a disastrously familiar-looking man entered the room and Severus' heart stopped - Tom Riddle, in the flesh, looking as fresh and young as he did before his attempted murder on Potter 15 years ago. Had this really happened in the few weeks since the incident at the Ministry? Severus could've helped with potions but the Dark Lord hadn't approached him, even though he'd know Severus could be of use and he couldn't help wonder why.

A lot of the outer circle of Death Eaters were surprised that their Lord now looked remarkably human too, although most of the inner circle weren't and yet again it begged the question why Severus wasn't made aware of the recent changes.

The meeting generally consisted of catching up, reporting anything of importance, and discussing recent developments with the werewolves and giants. Slowly but surely, the plan was coming together. Severus knew he was running out of time.

Not only could he not prevent his godson, Draco, from being initiated into the inner circle but the plan was going ahead much faster than the Order could cope with. With Potter missing from the Dursley's for nearly two weeks now, tensions at Hogwarts were high. He'd been on patrol every day since with other Order members, using every location and pinpointing spell and potion they could legally get their hands on. Lupin had been mostly uncooperative since Black's death and with Tonks' death at the scene of the kidnapping, they were down three Order members already. Hogwarts was being prepped to open again in two weeks too, meaning the professors had to return to Hogwarts eventually. They just didn't have the people to spare in order to look for him, but that didn't mean Dumbledore stopped sending them out day after day, fruitless search after search. It was unending.

The meeting, albeit boring, gave Severus a reprieve from the stifling atmosphere at Hogwarts, where hope was dwindling and the feeling of despair was beginning to sink in.

At first, Severus was going to try to refuse to join the dinner with the rest of the inner circle, but the Dark Lord had practically insisted, that usual insane glare in his eyes and grin on his face. Severus relented, knowing it wasn't worth the pain of a Crucio, and watched as the rest of the outer circle filtered out, leaving the inner circle behind.

A table appeared with chairs, each member taking a seat. The Dark Lord sat at the head, with an empty seat to his right, Bellatrix and her husband and brother in law to his left, followed by the Malfoy family and Severus. After the empty seat was Dolohov, Crabbe and Goyle senior, Rookwood, Yaxley, Avery, Nott and MacNair around him.

They eyed the empty seat with trepidation; was a new member joining the inner circle? It'd be the first in over 15 years, if so.

Voldemort nodded to Bella once everyone was seated and she jumped out of her seat with a cackle, leaving the room entirely before returning a few minutes later, but she wasn't alone. Stood just in front of her was a familiar young teen, looking as if he'd been in a muggle fight, glasses missing and limping with one leg, sadness and fear permeating from his very body

At that moment, Severus felt all oxygen leave his lungs and his head began to swim.

Potter was here. In Riddle Manor. With Voldemort. And yet, he was still alive.

Bellatrix forced him to the seat beside the Dark Lord before returning to her own.

Severus already felt lightheaded, trying to breathe normally as to not appear suspicious to those around him. He needed to take this information back to Dumbledore as soon as possible, find a plan to rescue him from these dark clutches, give hope back to the Wizarding World that their saviour was not dead, not yet.

He barely listened to the Dark Lord's threats, eating the food that appeared in front of him and attempting to make small conversation with Rookwood and Avery. Nevertheless, his head kept turning back to Potter, mind turning to find a way to save him. Can he afford to blow his cover now, take him and run? Not likely, the odds were atrocious. The Dark Lord's mind seemed quicker than ever, along with Bellatrix. Potter probably couldn't even see without his glasses, so running just wasn't a viable option. In the end, there wasn't any way he could get out of the manor alive with Potter too. That didn't stop him from thinking of every plan possible throughout the rest of the meal, becoming more and more desperate with each failed scenario.

After the meal ended, the Dark Lord returned to his throne at the back of the room and everyone watched with awe and surprise and Potter stood and followed, kneeling submissively by his side, limping the whole way. He flinched when he knelt, eyes shedding tears still, shaking just slightly in the shoulders.

_Lily, I am sorry,_ Severus thought, stepping forward for his Oath, repeating it, miraculously without tripping up. He stared at Potter, trying to convey his apology to him and hoping it was heard, heart breaking at the look he was returned. He couldn't even tell Albus what had transpired tonight, as a result of the Oath. Maybe he'd find a way to tell him though, right? There had to be something he could do, anything at all. He couldn't leave Potter here like this, his conscience wouldn't allow it.

The Oath snapped into place and Severus knew deep down, this was the end of the line. There was nothing he could do.

He stumbled away from the Dark Lord, practically running out of the Manor and apparating away as soon as he could, feeling nothing but guilt for the poor student he'd left behind, most likely to his death and the fall of the Wizarding World.

-x-

Later that night, Dinky popped into Harry's - Tom's, technically, Harry had to repeatedly remind himself - room.

"Master is be wanting you to meet him in the office, but asked that you use this when you go," Dinky said, before handing a familiar, shimmering fabric. The Invisibility cloak! He took is gently from her hands, wrapping it around his shoulders and sighing at the heartache it brought. He'd missed this cloak dearly in the time it was gone. Dinky popped back out after bowing slightly.

Slowly leaving the room, ensuring his entire body was covered from head to toe, Harry wandered down hallway after hallway. As it turns out, not everyone was on the other side of the Manor, judging by the screams and laughter coming from behind some of the doors. He was sure he'd heard Lucius Malfoy's booming voice coming from behind one of them, even Bellatrix's laugh from another. 

He soon reached Tom's office door, knocking quietly as to not alert nearby rooms, slipping inside when it audibly clicked open and closing it behind him. He tugged the cloak off, folding it up. Tom was sat on one of the couches near the fireplace this time, a glass of something Harry couldn't identify in his hand, legs crossed. When Tom spotted Harry, he gestured for him to sit down.

"Please sit, Harry. We have much to discuss."

Harry placed the cloak on the table between the couches, sitting on the same one as Tom, in the other corner. He couldn't explain it, but he felt a need to be closer to the man ever since using the bond, deciding to attribute it to the Horcrux and its side effects.

Tom turned to face Harry, sighing deeply.

"Before we begin, ask any questions to get them out of the way."

Harry nodded, asking the one he'd wanted to ask. "Why didn't we tell the inner circle the truth about why I'm here?"

Tom smirked a little. "Well, for one, they don't know about the Horcrux's and their past existence, and telling them in that meeting with Snape present, was a bad idea. Secondly, I was planning on telling them the truth tomorrow now that Snape isn't here. Contrary to popular belief, I don't hate my Death Eaters and they aren't just my obedient little slaves. Each and every single one is powerful and strong-minded, even Crabbe and Goyle, although they're mainly there for brute strength," Tom answered.

"Even Malfoy? You want him to know, even though we'll be at Hogwarts together?"

Tom nodded, considering the question. "I really only initiated Draco into the inner circle as a result of his father and mother, but I want him to prove himself to me and maybe he can do that by being trusted with the knowledge of why you're actually here. The inner circle keeps their thoughts well-Occluded, even Draco, so Dumbledore wouldn't be able to rip the knowledge from his head."

"And you're aware that he hates me, right?"

Tom rolled his eyes, answering dryly. "He had good reason to, you were a soft idiot the entire time he's known you. I don't think he hates you either, I think he hates how weak you were under Dumbledore. He's cleverer than you give him credit for."

Harry raised his eyebrows, clearly not believing Tom but knowing better than to argue with a dark lord anyway.

"What is it that you wanted to speak about, anyway?"

Tom hesitated for a moment, looking a little out of his comfort zone, before pressing forward. "Mainly, your self harm."

Harry's stomach dropped, dread filling his insides. Of course, that's what he wanted to talk about, you can't be a strong wizard when you self harm. It's a sign of weakness that Tom was probably going to force him to stop or kill him to get rid of the dead weight.

"Uhm, well, what about it?"

Instead of answering, Tom went in a different direction. "Harry, how do you view yourself?"

Automatically, Harry went for the usual descriptions everyone gave; strong, understanding, a good friend and listener, kind. He knew that lying would mean more repercussions in the future though, and dragged those feelings from deep inside his heart, blinking back tears already. "A monster," he whispered, "masquerading as one of the good people. Not good, nor kind. Unlovable and freakish. A killer, with hands dirtied by innocent blood. Dangerous and evil, disgusting and depraved."

A hand reached out and grasped his arm tightly, snapping Harry from his tirade. He met Tom's eyes head-on, unafraid, leaving his soul bared to the world.

"From one monster to another, Harry, please let me be the first to tell you that you don't deserve this pain. You never did. You were a child, an innocent, ruined and broken before you ever had the chance to grow and flourish. You were abused, not only by the Dursley's but by others too; Dumbledore, your friends, even me. You are not unlovable, Harry. You are not a killer. Take it from someone who really is a murderer; you didn't kill Cedric or Sirius."

Harry's brows raised in surprise, tears falling from his eyes in a river that he couldn't dam.

"H-how..."

"You have nightmares nearly every night, Harry. Crying out in pain and devastation. I am sorry for being the cause of some of them. Cedric's blood is on my hands, no one else's. I told Wormtail to kill him and I am sorry."

Hary shook his head, dropping his chin to his chest, allowing the tears to fall. "I had already forgiven you, Tom, when you treated me with more kindness and understanding than anyone else I've ever known, when I saw that you truly regretted your actions."

"But you shouldn't have to," Tom implored, pulling Harry closer. "I am a dark lord that has made mistakes, never learning from the errors I make. I let myself get in too deep, I got lost in my strive for power and forgot about being human. It isn't too late for you, Harry. Please, let me save you as you saved me."

Harry gripped Tom's hand with his own, sobs wrenching from his throat. "Thank you," he whispered, green eyes staring into red ones, "for everything. But I cannot let this go."

Tom finally released the emotions he'd been holding in, anger and desperation coming to the front. "Why not?! Why do you refuse to even try?"

"Not only do I not see why it is any of your concern, Voldemort, but I refuse to try because there is no point anymore. I have nothing left in this world, but pain and death and if this is all life has to offer, then I do not want it!" He ripped his arm from Tom's hand, standing up and trying to run, but found his feet stuck to the floor again.

"I care because you are my soul, Harry, and someone that understands me more than anyone else." The words were quiet, but burning with anger. "You say that life only has pain and death to offer when you haven't even given it a real chance. You are a mere 16 years old, carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Let me share it with you." Tom begged, for the first time in his life, wanting for Harry to see the truth.

"Why do you even care?! You've tried to kill me yourself time and time again. You don't care about me!"

"I do!" Tom shouted, standing too. "Somewhere along the way, you ripped my soul open, left me vulnerable, and made me care for your wellbeing and yet I can't be angry at you because you didn't even know you did it. You are more powerful and beautiful and kind than you take yourself for. I am willing to change, Harry, for you. I refuse to lose you now. I won't allow it."

Harry gripped his hair tight in his fists, crying out for someone, anyone, to help him. "Everything hurts," Harry whispered, swaying where he stood, "and this is the only thing that helps, even slightly. I don't know if I can give it up."

He closed his eyes as tight as he possibly could, flinching when he felt warm hands touch his own and soften his balled-up fists.

"I don't know what kindness is like," he continued, releasing his death grip on his scalp, "because for as long as I've known, I don't deserve it." He allowed himself to be manoeuvred to sit down on the couch again.

"I am in so much pain that breathing physically hurts my chest and yet I don't know what life is like without it. I need the pain to continue because I am afraid I will lose myself if I don't have it. Sometimes I think I am fading away and no one will realize it because my life isn't important. I don't know who I am anymore. I am broken."

"I am too," Tom whispered, sitting next to Harry on the couch and tugging him close, wrapping his arms around the small and yet powerful wizard in front of him. "I am so very tired and old, Harry. I understand. Don't you see?"

Harry nodded into Tom's chest, curling his hands into his robes, sobs finally petering out.

"Maybe we can help each other," Tom commented lightly, feeling his heart ache in his chest when he felt Harry nod again.

"I can't promise I can stop though," Harry whispered, feeling as Tom's hand tightened in the fabric of his robes.

"All I ask, Harry, is that you try your best and I will do the same."

Soon after, the room felt silent, comfortable and yet heavy. Surrounded by warmth and head quiet for once, Harry managed to slip into a deep sleep, curled into Tom's side.

When he felt Harry's breathing slow, Tom relaxed too. He knew, deep down, that everything had changed within the span of four weeks. Regaining the Horcruxes and his sanity meant that he knew how foolish his past actions were and he was _ashamed_. If he'd known back then what he knows now, he never would've killed that poor girl in the bathroom, creating that first fateful Horcrux. He'd hurt too many people over the years, anger overruling common sense. If he wanted power, he didn't have to be a tyrannical ruler to achieve it. He understood that now.

As soon as he'd returned his soul to nearly full capacity, he knew he couldn't let things stay the same. It's gone on for far too long. Finding out Harry was his last Horcrux was his lifeline, his chance to change, but when he found out about how suicidal and broken Harry was too, that anger almost returned. It simply wasn't fair. Life had never been fair to Tom, nor to Harry. They'd both experienced too much pain and not enough love, but Harry was the better person for not giving in to the anger.

There was no point in whining about the past though, he rationalized, and was determined to do better this time around. When he found out the extent of Harry's grief and sadness through the scan a week ago, his heart shattered all over again. Harry had only been in Riddle Manor for a week and yet he knew that he wanted to save this poor soul because no one saved his own. He had to do that himself.

Tom had related to every thought Harry told him over the past half hour, at some point in his life. He knew what it was like to feel unlovable and freakish, disgusting and depraved, but he was determined to not let Harry fall the same way he did.

He looked down to the head resting on his chest and wondered when, over the last few weeks, he'd allowed love in his heart for this poor soul. He just wanted to protect him from everyone and everything, hide him away and keep him alive. That wasn't possible, realistically. Harry was his own person and he didn't want to treat him like any other Death Eater, no. Harry was different.

He laughed quietly, as to not disturb the sleeping teen, before standing and picking him up in his arms, like he had only a week ago. He slowly carried him to his own room where he'd been staying for two weeks, praying to every god and deity that he couldn't cross paths with another of his inner circle. Thankfully, he reached the door uninterrupted, sliding it open and closing it quietly with his foot.

He gently lowered Harry to the bed before slipping a hand into his robe, pulling out two wands, both sharing the same core and leaving them on the bedside table. He tugged the duvet over Harry's unconscious body, watching as he pulled it closer. He slipped his outer robe off, leaving it on the back of the chair and lay down on the other side of the bed, pulling the duvet over his body.

Tom could've gone and found another room, but like Harry, he felt a need to be close to the other. This room was warded from rambunctious and excited Death Eaters too unlike his office, so in the end, it was a logical choice to make if he wanted to get any sleep tonight.

Soon, he also fell into a deep sleep, heart and mind feeling infinitely more at peace now than it had since he was a little child.

-x-

Harry woke slowly the next morning, eyes feeling sticky and sore and head feeling woolen. He sat up slowly, looking around in confusion, swearing that the last he remembered he was laying - and wasn't that an odd thought - on Tom's chest in his office, falling asleep after crying in front of him for the 8th time or something in two weeks.

He stretched, reaching his arms out before his eye caught something; the other side of the bed looked like someone had slept there recently, and reaching a hand out, the bedsheet still felt warm. His cheeks flushed bright red.

Tom must've carried him here and slept in the same bed the entire night... _oh fuck_ , that was embarrassing.

He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face and standing up, huffing in exasperation. Not only had he poured his heart out to the man, he'd fell asleep on him too. He didn't forget his words though. He had to try, not for himself but for Tom.

He brushed his teeth, getting changed slowly before sitting back down. He wasn't actually sure what to do. Now that the rest of the inner circle was here, Bellatrix and Tom couldn't exactly spend all day teaching him things, which meant that unfortunately, he wouldn't see his wand again for a while.

It was at that moment that Harry caught something in the corner of his eye. On the bedside table was a slip of paper, folded to make a tent-like shape. His wand was underneath it!

He giggled in surprise, then rolled his eyes, grabbing it and tucking it into his robe pocket before unfolding the paper.

_**Harry,**_ it read, in Tom's scrawl that he'd seen on papers around his office,

_**As I said yesterday, the plan today was to tell the rest of my Death Eaters the truth about why you're here. By the time you're awake, they should already know. Make your way to the same hall as yesterday. I'll be waiting.** _

_**\- Tom** _

Running a finger over the name at the bottom, Harry stood, exiting the room. Now that they knew, he was pretty nervous about everyone else's reactions, especially after they seemingly fooled them yesterday. He'd have to face Draco at some point today too, unfortunately.

He reached the doors to the hall, waiting for the signal to enter, taking a deep breath.

"Come in, Harry," he heard Tom say, and he twisted the handle, pushing the door open. Here goes nothing.


	11. chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the short chapter, brain isn't computing well today.
> 
> tried to think of about 74 different ways to explain someone blushing in this chapter too. oops.
> 
> this is mostly just a happier filler chapter after the last one, i might write more later tonight when i've finally done my college work. :(((  
> rabastan and rodolphus are best boys, i don't make the rules, i just play the game.
> 
> EDIT: i have been informed (thank you, Urgazhi) that i have been calling narcissa by narcissus this entire time, i am Sorry. narcissus isn't flagged as incorrect by my spellcheck so i kinda just went with it, i should've checked oh my gOD <3

At first, he peeked his head around the door to see what was going on but when he caught the eyes of everybody in the room, he blushed and opened the door fully, feeling childish for trying to hide. He might as well get it over with so he can go and stay in his room again, right?

Off the bat, he saw the shocked faces of Draco and his father, the smug look on Bellatrix's face, and the look of exasperation on Tom. He closed the door gently behind himself, before leaning against it and rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. No one said a word, till Tom sat up straight where he was lounging on the throne.

"Come in, Harry," he said, gesturing to one of the empty chairs at the table. He sat next to Bellatrix, one of the only neutral faces in the room right now. She reached out a hand and ruffled his hair and he blushed again, pushing her hand away and ignoring her laughter.

"I've just finished telling them," Tom explained, joining them at the table. 

Harry nodded, looking around. The other LeStrange's seemed unbothered by the news, along with Crabbe and Goyle, with Rookwood, Avery, Nott, Dolohov, MacNair and Yaxley looking interested and confused. The Malfoy's were a cross between angry and bewildered, especially young Draco, who was merely blinking at Harry with his jaw on the floor.

"So uh, what now?" Harry asked, turning back to Tom, who rolled his eyes slightly.

"As long as they agree, I'm going to have some of them teach you a few things over the next week and a bit before you go to Hogwarts. Rodolphus and Bellatrix, will you continue teaching Harry offensive spells?"

They nodded, whilst Rabastan whistled and under his breath said, "I pity you, if you're going to be taught by these two."

Rodolphus sighed and turned to punch the other in the arm. "Shut up, brother, if you know what's good for you."

With that, Harry finally understanding their relationship. If Rodolphus and Bellatrix would be teaching him together and the matching rings on their left hands meant anything, they were probably married, with Rabastan and Rodolphus being brothers by blood. Eh, he was half right, in the end.

Tom shook his head slightly before moving on. "Lucius, you will put aside your differences and continue teaching Harry Potions. Draco may join too, if he so desires, although he probably already knows them."

Lucius inclined his head once, vein bulging in his forehead but unwilling to be disobedient. Draco flushed under the praise, coughing slightly. "Of course, my Lord."

"That should take up most of your time," Tom said, turning back to Harry, "and I will teach you the basics of Wandless magic in the evenings."

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise, lurching forward.

"Yes!" he replied, a little eager. Bellatrix chuckled again and Harry whipped around to glare at her before remembering where he was and sat back and coughed. "Uhm, I mean, of course."

"Alright, that settles it. And a reminder to the rest of you; you aren't allowed to approach Harry in the Manor unless it is during a lesson. You are to treat him with the same respect as you would me. If you don't, rest assured that I will hear about it and you'll receive your own little cell in my dungeon." He stared menacingly around the table, especially at the Malfoy's. "You may leave," he finished, sitting back.

All occupants of the table stood to leave, excluding Harry, who remained in his seat.

As they left, Harry watched as Bellatrix wound an arm over Narcissa's shoulder and was reminded that the two were actually sisters, related to Sirius. He shook his head, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Small world, and all that.

Soon, Harry and Tom were left alone in the room.

"Why are you making them go to the effort of teaching me all this?" Harry asked, gesturing a hand around the room. "I'm not even technically on your side."

"There is no side anymore, Harry. It's everyone against Dumbledore and his stupid little army. Not only that, but I want you to be able to defend yourself if I'm not there and there are no other teachers better than Lucius, Rodolphus and Bellatrix to teach you. You are important to me, Harry. Remember that."

Harry nodded, cheeks flushing a bright red again. If felt weird to be wanted for once.

"You'll meet Bella and Rod in the same room we usually practice in. Lucius will be in the same lab that we use, although Draco may be there too. If you encounter any problems with any of them, let me know. Use the mind connection, or tell me later."

Harry nodded again, standing from his chair. Before leaving, he remembered something.

"Um, thank you for giving me my wand back," he said, quiet, before taking his leave.

He slowly made his way down the halls to the warded room that they usually use to practice destructive and offensive spells, sighing. In only two and a half weeks, his life had flipped dramatically and he still didn't fully have his head around it all. He still didn't know whether or not he regretted sending Tom that letter in the first place. Would he be better off living in bliss, trapped under Dumbledore's influences for the rest of his short life? He didn't really know, to be honest.

On his way, he passed who he was _sure_ was called Dolohov, but he still couldn't really tell. Either way, they nodded at him politely and he returned it before they went on their way. Maybe having the inner circle around wasn't so bad after all, he thought.

-x-

Nope, definitely bad, he thought only an hour later, groaning in pain where he lay on the floor. His arms and legs were burning with exhaustion, wand hand limp and aching.

If Harry thought Bellatrix was a formidable force on her own, Rodolphus _and_ Bellatrix was unstoppable.

"I should've listened to your brother," Harry muttered weakly, rolling onto his back.

Rodolphus cackled from the corner of the room, crossing his arms over his chest. The man was built like a tank, using both physical and magical fighting in a duel. Harry and his weak body weren't ready for it, having been fired with a Bone Breaking curse as soon as he'd opened the door, just barely throwing up a Protego shield in time.

He was sure his left arm was broken. His brain felt like it'd been rattled in his skull one too many times, too.

"Oh, it wasn't so bad," Rodolphus said, a little too jovial for someone with deadly accuracy when it came to offensive spells. Bellatrix rolled her eyes and tutted, picking up a satchel on the floor and making her way over to Harry. She reached inside, pulling out a few replenisher potions and passing them to Harry, who dutifully downed them with another groan.

"Episkey," she cast, fixing the arm and laughing when Harry cried out as it was reset. "Take a breather before going to Lucius," she said, "he won't like it if you bleed all over his cauldrons."

Remembering what came next, Harry moaned again, dropping his head on the floor, wincing at the thud it made. "Fuck."

Rodolphus laughed again, reaching out a hand and pulling Harry to his feet. "Calm down, little one, you're better at fighting than you give yourself credit for."

Harry saw fit to ignore the ridiculous endearment, stretching his arms above his head. "It's all the trauma," he dryly replied, taking a deep breath. The potions seemed to be doing their job and the soreness in his limbs was retreating, although it'd probably hurt again tomorrow. He didn't know many offensive curses, having been limited to Expelliarmus and the odd jinx with his Hogwarts education, but at least he'd learned a few powerful curses under Tom's tutelage. They didn't shy away from true dark magic either, which Harry wasn't expecting. Although really, he wasn't expecting the married pair to team up against him halfway through either.

Rodolphus reached out and ruffled his hair - what was it with these people, always needing to touch his hair? - laughing deep when Harry pushed his hand away. "Go on, we'll see you again at dinner," he said, a deep baritone voice that surprised Harry when he first heard it.

He left the room slowly, vision returning somewhat, dreading his experience in the lab. Draco and he hadn't spoken since he'd found out about the DA last year. In the end, after learning what he knows now, he doesn't actually hate Malfoy Junior, but he does loathe his attitude toward anyone he deems lesser than himself. That boy had a serious self-importance issue and needed knocking down a few pegs.

He ran a hand through his hair as he entered the lab, tucking his wand away, but stopped when he heard hushed voices from inside.

"Father, who does he think he is?! Why are we being forced to teach him this?"

"Calm down, Draco. I don't like it either, but our Lord knows best. You know better than to be disobedient like this."

"Maybe he's a spy for the other side. Maybe he's just trying to get close to our Lord."

"Draco stop being dramatic. You heard what our Lord said; the prophecy wasn't real. Dumbledore has been manipulating him for the last 15 years of his life. Maybe he's not as bad as you remember."

"When did you get so agreeable? I thought you didn't like him too!"

"Oh, I don't," Lucius replied, fiercely, "but he's strong, Draco. Not even you can deny that. If anyone will carry us to victory, it'll be Potter and our Lord."

Draco just sighed. "Father, he hates me. Always has. Probably will more now considering I revealed his little club to Umbridge."

"That was your own fault, Draco, for being such a sheep. You don't need to follow everyone else. Step up and be your own leader, for once." Lucius didn't exactly sound angry, but it was clearly a sore spot for him.

"Yes, father, I'm sorry," Draco replied, before sighing again.

Harry decided he'd heard enough and shut the door behind himself loudly, grinning at the curse word the elder Malfoy let out. He joined the other two in the big lab. They were set up at one of the desks, with three cauldrons out. 

"Come on in, Potter," Lucius said, gesturing to the empty cauldron. "Today, we're going over the Draught of the Living Death..."

-x-

An hour or so later, Harry was packing away his cauldron after the lesson. It hadn't actually been that bad in the end; Lucius probably excelled in Potions when he was at Hogwarts, seamlessly making the Draught of the Living Death and yet guiding them through it well enough that both students successfully made it too.

With his father there and not being in Hogwarts, Draco wasn't actually that bad to get along with. Sure, he had an inflated ego and need to be the center of attention sometimes, but he wasn't actually a bad person. In the end, they'd worked together flawlessly, sharing the ingredients and asking questions to each other without arguing about it.

Maybe it was the threat from Tom or the fact that his father would've done something if he acted like he did in Hogwarts but whatever it was, Harry was thankful. He didn't have the energy to argue with the little prick today, especially when their arguments were usually so trivial and pathetic that it made him wonder why they were arguing in the first place.

As they packed their things together, Draco approached Harry slowly.

"I am... sorry... for the way I treated you," Draco bit out, looking down at the floor. "I was a prick to you. You're not as bad as I thought you were."

Harry was shocked for a moment but pulled himself together. "No, I'm sorry too. I gave as good as I got. I'm sorry for not shaking your hand on the train too. I would've done, if I knew then what I know now."

Draco sighed, shaking his head. "You've been dealt a shit hand here, Potter. It wasn't your fault you were caught in the Weasley trap."

Harry laughed, knowing what he said was true. "Well, you're not wrong, but thank you." He gave Draco an honest smile, glad when it was received well and reciprocated.

"Let's get to dinner," Draco said, dragging Harry out of the room by his shoulder, Lucius following a short distance behind them. 

Maybe there was a friendship with Draco after all, maybe all hope wasn't lost in the world.

-x-

Dinner was a welcome reprieve from the relentless barrage of lessons that day, especially because it was a lot more joyful than the dinner yesterday. Tom had smiled at him when no one else was looking and Harry felt his cheeks grow warm, embarrassment filling him. He sat at his side again quietly, eating amongst the rest of the inner circle happily.

Rodolphus was recounting how battered Harry was after their duel to Rabastan, laughing loudly when Harry glared at him and kicked his shin under the table. Bellatrix laughed too, when Rodolphus yelped, dropping his fork, reaching across the table to pat Harry's cheek.

Crabbe and Goyle were arguing with each other the merits between using one curse from another, surprising Harry with their in-depth knowledge, grinning when Yaxley joined in and called them both idiots, starting the argument off again.

Lucius and Narcissa were discussing something Harry couldn't even begin to understand, some political bullshit that went in one ear and out the other. It clearly did the same to Draco too, who caught Harry's gaze and rolled his eyes, nodding his head to his parents, before turning to talk to Rookwood and Avery. Nott, MacNair and Dolohov were talking quietly amongst themselves, being the quietest and most mysterious at the table. He didn't quite know how to approach those three just yet, although they seemed nice enough.

 _'Rambunctious bunch, are they not?'_ Tom said, using the mental link to speak in secret.

 _'Very much so,'_ Harry replied, turning back to his meal. The noise reminded him of the Gryffindor table at Hogwarts, actually. _'Like a little family,'_ Harry teased, laughing quietly to himself.

Tom laughed too, projecting amusement across the bond to Harry. _'I hate to admit it, but you're right. How were the lessons?'_

 _'Exhausting,'_ Harry replied, trying to pass his tiredness across to Tom, _'you should've warned me about Rodolpus.'_

 _'But where's the fun in that?'_ Tom asked rhetorically. _'And what about with Lucius?'_

_'Surprisingly okay, actually. I think Draco and I came to a sort of joint friendship too. He and I apologised for our past actions.'_

Harry felt the surprise and happiness through the bond, chest growing warm. Maybe he was doing okay here after all.

 _'Good,'_ Tom said. _'After the meal, rest in your room for an hour and then meet me in my office.'_ When Harry agreed, he closed the bond again, tuning back to the outside world.

Rodolphus and Rabastan had moved on to regaling stories about their travels across the world to Draco, who was listening with rapt attention.

"...and then this idiot decided to throw a branch at it! A manticore was attacking us, and he grabbed a bloody branch!"

"Better than your rock, you fool! As if lobbing a rock as a manticore is a good idea!"

Harry laughed with Draco, shaking his head in exasperation at the brothers' antics.

"Better get used to it," he heard Dolohov whisper to him from his right, "they'll be at it all dinner at this rate."

"Hey, I heard that, you prick!"

Bellatrix laughed at her husband's offended face, spearing the meat on her plate with her fork.

Really, they _were_ like a little dysfunctional family, and for once, Harry found himself wanting to be a part of it, rather than sit on the sidelines. Maybe this time, it wouldn't hurt to get a little attached, right?


	12. chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the fuckin lore in this thing isn't real, i'll start with that. the whole core thing and occlumency? deadass made that shit up so i can incorporate it in the fic easier, instead of using someone else's lore.
> 
> i hate dialogue too, sorry if it's shite. i can't think of something to say other than that they "nod in response." fuck.
> 
> it's snowing like crazy outside so i'm gonna go warm up with a shower. <3

Harry returned to the bedroom and took a deep breath, sides hurting from laughing so much during dinner.

Rabastan and Rodolphus were definitely a sight to behold, telling joke after joke to anyone at the table. Dolohov's continued exasperated sighs were either a telling sign that this was the norm, or their jokes were old. Either way, Harry laughed like hadn't in a good while, spirits around the table being lighter than ever.

After the meal, MacNair, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, Avery and Yaxley left the manor with other business to attend to or something. Harry was pretty sure one of them had to go to Gringotts to get his family trees from the goblins, but he wasn't sure which of them had to go. That left the LeStrange's, Dolohov, the Malfoy's, Rookwood and obviously Harry behind.

Something was amiss, though; he hadn't seen Wormtail at all today, even though he'd been at the meeting yesterday and was mentioned to be one of the inner circle to be staying at the manor. Well, he could just ask Tom about it later.

He had an hour to kill before he had to make his way to Tom's office again, deciding to have a quick nap, still pretty exhausted from the long day he'd had. It was only going to repeat tomorrow though and he still hadn't practiced wandless magic with Tom yet.

He was actually pretty excited to study wandless magic, getting jealous every time Tom used it around him to tidy an area or summon an object, close a door, cast a charm, throw up a shield, the possibilities seemed endless.

Heart pounding at the chance to use such magic, Harry fell into a restful sleep.

Only around 30 minutes later, Harry awoke gasping, short of breath and throat dry. Afterimages were flitting through his brain, but he couldn't quite make them out; all he could remember was pain, a familiar Hogwarts hallway, and flashes of brilliant colours. It'd _hurt_ , but he couldn't tell whether it was a memory or a nightmare, concocted from his own trauma.

Shaken from the dream, he just decided to get ready to leave for Tom's office and practiced some breathing patterns, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He sat on the center of the bed with his legs crossed, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. It didn't take very long for him to enter his mind, as he had with Bella, seeing his core in the distance.

He approached it carefully, knowing the dangers it possessed but wanting to take comfort from it anyway. Even from this far away, he felt warmth and a sense of home emanating from the bright white core. It still amazed him to this day that magic looked like this. 

After a few deep breaths, he exited his mind again, already feeling much better. A wave of his wand showed the time to be nearly 6pm, so he left the room, walking slowly. Even now, he had so many questions to ask.

What if Granger and Weasley approached him when he went back to Hogwarts, wanting to start up their friendship again? Would he be able to say no? How was he going to explain his sudden excel in magical strength and knowledge, in both potions and spells? What would he do if Luna and Neville were both under Dumbledore's influence? Would Tom be able to help them, too? What if Dumbledore tried to cast another memory spell on him? Would it even work? And what if he forgot what he was supposed to not know and slipped up?

It would be a monumental task, going back to Hogwarts and trying to act normal, as if his entire world hadn't been knocked down and was in the process of being rebuilt.

When at the Dursley's, his hunger had been next to nothing and all he could think about was death, but now he'd been eating healthily and rarely thought about it anymore. He wasn't fixed by any means, but it really did wonders what a healthier environment could do to the brain.

He knocked on the office door, leaving those thoughts for now and entering the room. Tom was sat behind his desk but stood and gestured to the couches when Harry entered. He was slightly embarrassed to admit it, but he felt entirely comfortable around the man nowadays. They were similar in more ways than he'd ever thought was possible.

"Harry, we'll spend the first hour practicing Occlumency before moving onto wandless magic. It'll be easier to cast wandless magic with your mind clear, too."

Harry sat down. "Before we start, I just wanna ask a few questions." Given the affirmative to go ahead, he continued. "Where is Wormtail?"

"He's currently on the other side of the Manor," Tom replied, "away from everyone else. Mainly because I hate him and he's disgusting, but also because I think you'd try to kill him if you saw him."

Harry rolled his eyes, but nodded. "You're right, I would. I was just wondering since he wasn't at breakfast or dinner today. Anyway, I wanted to ask if you'd be able to help Neville and Luna with their memory blocks when I go back to Hogwarts."

"Yes, I would, but they'd have to come here for me to be able to do it. I wouldn't be able to do it in Hogwarts because the spells would flare up with the wards Dumbledore uses. Perhaps they could come here one weekend, or during Christmas."

"R-really?" Harry asked, excited. He'd _love_ for them to come here!

Tom nodded, grinning at Harry's excitement. "You could teach them Occlumency too, when you're good at it, so Dumbledore can't get to them again."

"True," Harry replied, "and what do I do if Granger and Weasley try to befriend me again?"

"That's honestly up to you. You could go the pacifist route, keep your friends close and your enemies closer or whatever, or you could tell them to fuck off and ignore them entirely. It's your choice to make."

Harry nodded, filing the thought away. He'd think about that more later.

"Oh, would we be able to go to Diagon Alley before I leave? I will need new robes and things for Hogwarts."

"Yes," Tom said, "I can take you at a later date. I'd ask Draco to join us, but that would probably be too suspicious. It'd be good practice for being your fake relative too."

"What's happening with that, anyway?"

"I had Yaxley go and get your family trees earlier and from what I can see, there are two relatives we can go with; Adel Evans, a close cousin to both Lily and Petunia Evans and Muggle, or Thomas Evans, your biological great grandfather and Muggle. Both died under suspicious circumstances, meaning we could give the faked death backstory. Neither are known to anyone in the magical world, but we could say there was a magical-related incident in which I wasn't Obliviated and since then, I made it my mission to find out all things magical."

Harry sighed, wringing his hands together. "Is it believable enough for Dumbledore to not question it?"

"It'll have to be," Tom replied, "because that's what we're telling him and he has no reason otherwise to not believe us."

"In that case, the great grandfather will probably be a better choice, especially if we're saying that you took me in and know a lot about magic. Calling you Tom in front of Dumbledore will be pretty funny too," Harry said, laughing with Tom.

"Alright, that solves it; I'm your great grandfather, Thomas Evans, and you're my great grandson, Harry Potter, whom I kindly welcomed into my home. We're having it so that we live on an island, moving to and from the inland with Portkeys, so that we can say we were ignorant to the press and rumors of England."

Harry nodded slowly, "that's a good idea. This might actually work."

"Ye of little faith," Tom teased, ruffling Harry's hair, "it'll be fine, just you watch."

Harry sighed. "If you say so. Shall we get started with Occlumency?"

"What do you know about Occlumency?"

"Uhh, all I know is that it blocks against Legilimency, but I'm not sure how."

"Alright, well, you're right but it is quite a bit more complicated than that. To Occlude your mind, you must empty it of all thoughts and emotions, essentially closing it off. Legilimency can access your thoughts and emotions but it can also influence you to act on someone else's bidding. Clearing your mind is one part of it, but erecting a shield or wall to make it more permanent is a little more difficult. It'll probably take you a day or two to fully clear your mind, but once you do, it comes naturally to you."

Harry nodded, feeling a little overwhelmed but determined to get it this time around.

"We'll start by meditating; keeping your breathing even and calm ensures that your emotions will calm too, hence breathing exercises when you're anxious or angry. Bella should've taught you a little bit about meditating, but instead of entering your mind to see your core, remain in that trance-like state."

Harry sat back and closed his eyes, calming his breathing and relaxing all of his muscles. He felt himself enter a state of calm, but without a goal afterward, he felt himself start to shift and wonder what's going on.

"You're not able to maintain it, are you?"

Harry shook his head, disappointed. "Am I doing something wrong?"

"No, Harry, but the act of clearing your mind means you must have absolutely nothing bothering you. If there's something you want to get off your chest, now is the time."

Harry huffed, a little annoyed. He never liked talking about his feelings, even to someone who knew everything anyway. "I'm just stressed, I think. There's still so many things I don't know or am unsure about. It's a lot of pressure, you know?"

Tom dodded understandingly, "I'm sorry I'm asking so much of you here, Harry. I will tell you anything and everything you ask about, okay?"

"Okay," Harry replied, taking a deep breath. "How will I face Snape when we go back to Hogwarts? He still thinks I'm being tortured by you, or something."

"That is an area for concern, to be honest. We could either hope that he didn't find a way around the Oath and reveal everything to Dumbledore, then turn up on the day and surprise him. Or, we could bring him in the day before we return now that he's stewed in his guilt for a while and tell him the truth, but that still risks him going to Dumbledore."

"Fuck, neither of those are good scenarios to be honest. Just turning up might be a good idea, with the whole relative backstory and refuse to accept anything else as the truth. He wouldn't dare hurt me, especially if we somehow reveal that you're still you to him, but stick to the story in front of everyone else."

"Mm, that's a good idea. It'll fuck him over, mostly, but I think he's beyond redemption for any side in this war. Maybe he'll turn out to be loyal to one side in the end, but he's in limbo right now. Maybe you can somehow get him to sway our way, but your presence could cause the opposite to happen. There's nothing to do now, though. If all else fails, a good Avada Kedavra will do the trick," Tom said, cheerfully.

Harry was inclined to agree; this whole plan couldn't collapse because of one man's pettiness. "I'm just hoping I can do my part well," Harry said, quietly.

"You're not alone in this, Harry. Remember that. Draco will be there too, and don't tell the rest of the inner circle but Dolohov will be at Hogwarts too."

Harry raised his eyebrows in shock. "And how did you pull that off?"

"He'll be your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," Tom replied, smugly. "I made him go to Dumbledore and apply for the position. He's not new to teaching, but it'll help both you and him to have familiar faces around. It's someone else on the inside too."

He laughed, already feeling better about it all. He and Dolohov didn't really speak, but the quiet man was one of his favourites amongst the inner circle. He was easy enough to get along with.

"Try clearing your mind now," Tom said, watching as Harry closed his eyes and relaxed into the arm of the couch.

He soon entered that trance-like state again, breathing evenly and heartrate nice and slow. This time, he found it much easier, some of his worries already dissipated from Tom's words.

"Good," he heard Tom say from somewhere. The praise was reassuring that he was doing it right.

Harry felt like he was _floating_ , with no worries or thoughts running through his head. He'd achieved absolute peace within himself, finally resting his mind entirely. Outwardly, he felt every bit of tension being released from his body, every overworked emotion and worrying thought leaving entirely. He basked in the emptiness for while, merely looking around that dark, endless plane of existence within his mind. It was comforting to a degree he'd never felt before.

A tap to his cheek slowly brought him back to reality, warm fingers making contact with his skin. Goosebumps broke out on his arms, causing him to shiver slightly. He opened his eyes slowly, the burning fire in the corner attracting his line of vision. He saw a hand wave in front of them, belonging to Tom, before realizing that the hand still hadn't left his cheek.

"Back with us?" Tom asked, amused.

Harry nodded, blushing, detaching the hand from his cheek. "Sorry, it was really- relaxing," he settled on.

"It's meant to be," Tom replied, with a gentle smile. "You did well for your first time. I'm guessing you never reached that point with Snape, then," he said, dryly. 

"Nope, not even close. Fuck, I wish I'd learned that earlier," Harry groaned, stretching his arms above his head.

"Remember, Harry; that technique is good for calming down and entering a state of sleep, if necessary, but don't abuse it. The real world still goes on when you're in there."

Harry nodded, wondering if Tom caught on to the fact that he would probably spend a lot of time floating in that black nothingness. 

"Are we moving onto wandless magic now?"

Tom smirked, "eager, are we? But yes, we are. Keep practicing emptying your mind over the next few days and when you can do it effortlessly, we'll move onto the next stage of Occlumency. What do you know about wandless magic?"

Harry shook his head, "absolutely nothing. One of the few acts of wandless magic I've ever seen is you opening the doors to Riddle Manor when I first got here. At first, I thought someone did it from inside before you told me we were alone in the Manor with Bellatrix. You use it a fair bit too, but I don't know anyone else that does."

"Yes, it's not easy to get down. I don't even think Dumbledore can use it to the same degree that I do. It's not all about pure magical strength though, you must be very in tune with your magical core and its sentience to be able to use it so efficiently. But if Bellatrix's words ring true, you might even be better than me at wandless magic."

Harry spluttered, sitting upright. "I'm sorry, _what_?"

"That magical test you performed a week or so ago revealed that you have some of the strongest magic I've ever seen, Harry. If one of your friends were to do the same test, injuries from 10 years ago wouldn't have healed. Their eyesight wouldn't suddenly be perfect. You're pretty much one of a kind, actually."

He blushed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Jesus, that's a lot to take in... y'know, for years, I thought I was below average, nothing, the bottom of the food chain. All I ever wanted was power, to be better than those that were allowed to take advantage of me for so long."

"Well, here's your chance," Tom replied, "you'll grasp it in no time. You know where to find your core, yes?" At Harry's nod, he continued. "Find the core again. If possible, I will speak directly into your mind when in there."

Harry followed Tom's instructions, entering his mind again, finding the core pretty easily. When there, he allowed himself to physically manifest when there, waiting for Tom.

_'Can you still hear me when in there?'_

_'Yup, loud and clear,'_ Harry replied, noting how his voice was much louder and prominent when in here.

_'Good, now the premise is the same as when you released your magic with Bellatrix, but this time, we won't be releasing it. Some people can't even find their cores for years, so you're excelling in that too. Grasp some of the thicker strands of magic this time, maybe 2 in each hand.'_

Harry did as he asked, grabbing some of the thicker ones he could see. That familiar warmth ran through his body again and he shivered, smiling gently.

_'Remember to focus. Imagine those strands tied around your wrists, tethering you physically to your core.'_

Harry blinked, imagining it, and when he opened his eyes, the strands were wrapped around his wrists.

_'Good, well done. If there was any step to go wrong, that would've been it. If there's contention within oneself with their magic, sometimes it will reject and refuse to connect. Most wizards and witches used wandless magic only, but the creation of the wand was for those that didn't or couldn't do it, but was known to have a core. They're used to channel magic efficiently, like a funnel, but it limits the wizard and isn't as strong as wandless magic. The wands eventually became more popular, although they started out as staves, because it was easier than using wandless magic.'_

Knowing it could've rejected made Harry a little nervous, but very glad it didn't. He'd never really felt contention with his magic - his mind, sure, but his magic was the one constant in his life and he owed his life to it.

_'Somone could've done this for you, but the bond seems more efficient when the magic user does it to themselves. I told you you'd pick it up quickly,'_ Tom said, prideful.

Harry laughed, trying to not lose focus and reply.

_'Now that you've attached those strands, they can't really be removed unless you do it to yourself. The channel to being able to perform wandless magic is open now, but you'll not see any results for a few days. Exit your mind slowly. Don't worry about the strands - as I said, they'll stay there till you remove them.'_

Harry left his mind, opening his eyes slowly to see crimson ones staring into his own. He jumped back a bit, surprised. "Uhm, did I do it right then?"

Tom nodded, smiling. "Perfectly. We'll leave it there for tonight. Don't try any wandless magic just yet, wait until tomorrow so I know nothing goes wrong."

Harry, a bit sullen at the prospect of not doing any magic yet, nodded, sitting back.

"Can I still use my wand?"

"Sure," Tom replied, "it shouldn't interfere with the wandless magic at all. Anyway, I'll walk you back to your room. It's about 8pm but if those bags under your eyes say anything, you'll probably be asleep in minutes," Tom joked, slinging an arm over Harry's shoulder and leading him out of the office and to his bedroom.

"God, they're that bad!?" Harry exclaimed, flushing.

Tom laughed, pulling Harry closer to his side. "Don't be embarrassed, it just means you're working hard. You'll be an expert in wandless magic by Christmas, no doubt."

"But that's like, 4 months away!"

"Glad to see you know the months of the year," Tom replied, laughing, "but remember it takes some people their whole lives to master it. You're moving in leaps and bounds."

Acquiesed, Harry settled, curling closer into Tom. Two weeks ago, he hated anything touch-related but somehow, he'd been craving it now. Probably touch-starved, his mind supplied, and he immediately beat that thought back with a stick. Fuck no, he wasn't touch-starved. That's dumb. He's just getting used to how touchy-feely the rest of the inner circle were, or something...

Tom led Harry into his bedroom, reaching out to pat his head - god, man, he was almost being treated like a little puppy, with all these pats on the head - before shutting the door with a quiet, "goodnight, Harry. Sleep well."

Harry nodded, not being able to reply before the door shut, fighting the urge to ask Tom to stay with him. Oh well. He stripped slowly, leaving his boxers and t-shirt on, slipping under the covers and immediately falling into a deep sleep.


	13. chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey. :) it's getting closer to harry's return to hogwarts, yay! i hope dumbles isn't too OOC, i can't write creepy old men too accurately.
> 
> thanks for reading!!<333

"Are we ready to leave?" Harry asked, fighting back a smile.

Tom nodded, cuffing Harry around the back of the head. "Cheeky shit, stop laughing."

"I can't help it when you look like someone I'd help cross the road or carry their shopping," Harry replied through laughter, dodging another whack.

They were getting ready to leave Riddle Manor for the first time since Harry's arrival, in order to purchase supplies from Diagon Alley so he could go back to Hogwarts but it was also the first time that Tom would be appearing as Harry's relative. He had matching green eyes with Harry, grey-brown hair, glasses and the typical wrinkly skin of someone that would be in their 80s. Thankfully, it was only a disguise, not an actual 80-year-old body so he wouldn't have to hobble around when no one was looking. The guise was paired with a crackly voice you'd only see on someone that had had like 4 tracheostomies or smoked their entire life, absolutely _nothing_ like Tom's normal cold, distinctive voice.

"Let's get going, before anyone _else_ sees," Tom bit out, shooting glares at Bellatrix stood laughing in the corner, blatantly ignoring that Harry was cackling along with her.

They'd be Flooing into the Leaky Cauldron, but Harry would have to take it from there, considering Tom was actually supposed to be a Muggle in this scenario.

Harry nodded, calming down a bit before reaching for some powder on top of the fireplace, throwing into the orange flames and watching as they flashed to a bright green.

"Diagon Alley!" Harry shouted, stepping into the flames, seamlessly arriving at the Leaky Cauldron. He heard the fireplace flare up again and moved out of the way, watching as Tom stepped through too. His acting would have to come in handy here, especially since he would have to at least act old and wizened.

"You alright?" Harry asked, reaching out to give Tom a hand, fighting down another laugh at the glare it received him. Tom took the hand anyway, pulling Harry close.

"Remember, you little fucker, I can still physically beat you in this form," he whispered in Harry's ear, before letting go and hobbling towards the brick wall.

Miraculously, no one had noticed Harry yet, but that probably wouldn't last long. They'd anticipated ahead for the appearance of Dumbledore at least once today, or an Order member.

The last few days, along with his Occlumency and wandless lessons with Tom, potions with Lucius and Draco and offensive spells with Bellatrix and Rodolphus, Harry had been mentally prepping himself to face Dumbledore, reciting lie after lie, creating new questions that Dumbledore may ask, just in case. he was faring much better in Occlumency too and Tom said they'd be able to spend the next week prepping to put up walls in Harry's mind, now that he could clear it. He'd also managed to perform a few wandless spells, but they were pretty basic, needing immense focus.

Harry followed Tom to the brick wall at the back of the pub, tapping out the pattern with his wand, watching with awe as it unfolded to reveal Diagon Alley in all its glory. Time after time, he'd never lose that feeling of pure awe when he saw the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley reveal itself.

It wasn't actually as busy as it normally was; instead, missing posters were plastered on nearly every shop entrance in the vicinity, all with Harry's face on the front. They'd reused a picture from the night at the ministry and Harry felt nausea rise inside. Even remembering that night made him feel ill, to the point where he felt like asking Tom to remove the memory entirely.

He exchanged a glance with Tom, which he returned, but they pushed forward anyway. Considering he hadn't actually had a home according to Dumbledore this year, he didn't receive a Hogwarts letter but Draco did, so they'd just copied that one. The first thing he'd need was new robes, with his last one's being short in the arms. Harry didn't actually think he'd grown all that much in height, but he'd definitely put a healthy amount of weight on in the short time he'd been at Riddle Manor, even some muscle bulk with all the fighting he'd done. Considering he wouldn't be able to do that at Hogwarts, he was thinking about taking up running when he got there instead.

He pointed to Madam Malkins, gesturing in that direction. Tom nodded and off they went.

Weirdly enough, they hadn't passed anyone that would recognise him, but that would change as soon as they went somewhere like Madam Malkins, no doubt.

True to those words, as soon as Harry pushed the door open, holding it open for Tom to follow, he heard his name being called from within the shop.

"Harry Potter!" He winced at the shrill voice, slowly turning around, putting up a mask of indifference.

"Good afternoon, Madam," he replied, looking at her directly. She was clearly shocked, to say the least.

"W-where have you been?!" Internally, he rolled his eyes. Externally, he ensured he looked confused.

"What do you mean? I spent summer with my grandfather this year," he said, nonchalantly walking over to the Hogwarts robes selection, reaching for the regular every-day ones. Tom followed close behind.

"G-grandfather?" Madam asked, still pale in the face and unmoving from her position near the counter.

"Yeah, this is Tom. He's my grandfather on my mother's side. Are you okay?" He replied, faking concern for her wellbeing. "You look a little pale."

She didn't reply for a moment, looking between Tom and Harry, eyes wide. "Have you not seen the news?" She finally said, shrilly and high.

Harry shook his head, grabbing some robes from the hanger and taking them over to her. "No, we don't get news from the mainland where we live. Why, is there something we missed? Oh, mind measuring me, too? Pretty sure I've grown this year," he said, pushing the robes into her unyielding hands.

Madam Malkin merely shook her head, taking the robes into her hands, before wandering into the back.

Harry turned and raised his eyebrows at Tom, who merely shrugged her shoulders. They turned back and followed her to the fitting rooms in the back of the shop.

He went and stood on the podium in the middle, watching as she waved her wand and about 10 little measuring tapes came firing out the end, whizzing over to Harry's body and taking his measurements, appearing on parchment in her hand.

"According to the press, Mister Potter, you've been missing since your 16th birthday," she said, reading the notes thoroughly and making the accurate changes to the robes.

Harry feigned shock, dropping his jaw. "W-what? _Missing_?"

"Mhm, although most think you've been kidnapped by the Dark Lord, what with the dead Auror at the scene and your missing relatives."

"B-but I'm not with Voldemort!" He insisted, resisting the urge to start laughing. "And my relatives said they were leaving the country. Couldn't cope with any of this 'funny magic business' anymore, or something."

"Well, you can explain all that to the Aurors, when they learn you've returned," she said, passing off the newly adjusted robes.

Harry nodded, handing over an accurate amount of galleons from his pouch. "That's mad," he replied, "I can't believe that's where everyone thought I was this entire time!" He laughed a bit, before tucking the robes away into a bag and taking his leave. "C'mon Tom, we've got plenty more shopping to do!"

Tom nodded politely at Madam Malkin before following his supposed grandson from the shop. Realistically, he could've sent another Death Eater with him or even sent Harry on his own, considering the previous threat of _himself_ was no longer there anymore, but he found himself actually wanting to spend time with Harry before he left in a week.

He shook his head at Harry's exuberance, but glad he was feeling a bit better these days anyway.

"Where next?" Tom asked, reading through the letter Harry had in his hands. "Books?"

Harry nodded, folding up the letter again before making his way to Flourish and Blotts.

In the end, they received mostly the same reaction from the bookseller, repeating the same answer they gave Madam Malkin, picking up the necessary books before leaving in the same fashion. No doubt news would travel fast, especially with how many more looks they were receiving when walking around the Alley. They didn't stop though, making their way through shop after shop, gaining bags upon bags filled with all the required items for Harry's 6th year.

Towards the end, Tom made the suggestion that Harry should get a new trunk, one that could lock with his magical signature and shrink for convenience. In the end, the trunk they chose wasn't cheap by any means, but Harry couldn't refuse considering Tom was buying it for him. He'd bought everything today, actually, saying he had no other reason to spend the surplus amount of money he received over the years. After that purchase, they stored all of the bags inside, making one last stop; Gringotts.

Apparently, now that he was 16, he'd receive the key to his vault so he could use it himself. Last Harry remembered, Dumbledore currently held his key, which was extremely unfortunate.

They entered the large marble building together, going straight to the goblin at the head of the bank.

"Good afternoon," Harry said, when the goblin finally looked up from whatever papers he was reading, "I am here regarding the Potter vaults."

The goblin nodded, gesturing to a side door. Another goblin stepped out, looking immediately at Harry.

"Mister Potter, I presume?" Harry nodded. "Follow me," he said, before turning and walking back the way he came.

Harry followed closely, shutting the door behind himself and Tom. The goblin went into one of the side rooms, gesturing for Tom and Harry to take one of the chairs across from himself.

"As you are now 16, you are aware you may take possession of the Potter vault, correct?"

"Yes," he replied, "but I'm not in possession of my vault key. As far as I know, Albus Dumbledore currently has it."

The goblin nodded, reaching into his desk drawer and pulling out what looked like a casing for a typical vault key.

"Thankfully, this will bring it back here. If you ever lose your key, this casing will be able to bring it back here. Tap it with your wand, if you please."

Harry did so, looking away at the bright golden glow it emanated for a moment, before disappearing and leaving a small key behind.

The goblin handed it over, tucking the casing away. "If you weren't Mister Potter, that wouldn't have worked. You are aware of the current disarray of the wizarding world, yes?"

Harry nodded, sheepishly. "I am now, but I wasn't till I got here. I've been staying off land with my great grandfather," he gestured to Tom as he spoke.

"Unfortunately for you, Mister Potter, guises disappear when you walk through that second set of doors. A safety mechanism, you realize." With that, he turned to look at Tom. "Mister Riddle, I would reapply your glamour before you leave as you may discover someone waiting outside."

Harry slumped in his chair, tutting. Tom sighed before rubbing a hand over his face, his normal one appearing afterward.

"Thank you for the warning," he said, half thankful and half sarcastically.

"You are lucky we don't involve ourselves with the petty arguments of wizards," the goblin replied, before waving a hand towards the door, "pleasure doing business with you."

Harry and Tom stood, bowing slightly. "Likewise," Harry said, before they left. When they passed the second set of doors again to the main hall of Gringotts, Tom reapplied the glamour, grabbing Harry's arm.

"That was closer than I would've liked," he muttered, before nodding his head towards the door. "Ready to face the music?"

Harry nodded, steeling his nerves. "As ready as I'll ever be."

They pushed open the ornate Gringotts doors together, taking note of the small gathered crowd immediately, Dumbledore at the front.

Harry was filled with rage upon seeing that ugly, wizened face of his, wanting to reach out and wring his neck till he dropped dead. It wouldn't be sane though, especially with the numerous Aurors surrounding them and the odd Order member nearby.

"Hello professor," Harry said, brightly, "what brings you here?"

At his voice, Dumbledore seemed to physically sag in relief. "Harry, my boy, you're safe," he said, rubbing a hand over his mouth - a _blackened_ hand, at that.

"Of course I am, why wouldn't I be?" Harry replied, confusedly, allowing Tom to take his arm and walk down the stairs to join the group.

"You are not aware of what's been happening?"

Harry shook his head, looking around, "Tom doesn't get signal on the island, unfortunately, did we miss something?"

At the name, Dumbledore seemed to jolt and look around. Harry laughed on the inside, gripping Tom's hand wrapped around his arm tightly.

"You were reported missing, Harry," Dumbledore kindly replied, eyeing Tom intently, "or captured by the Dark Lord."

Harry laughed, still feigning confusion. "Well, that's ridiculous. I'd be dead and the war would be over if that were the case, right Professor?"

Instead of answering, Dumbledore asked the question he was burning to ask. "And who are you, may I ask?"

At the question, Tom stepped forward. "Well, I'm Tom, Thomas Evans, Harry's grandfather."

Dumbledore's eyes widened at that, the wheels in his mind visibly turning. Since such a relative existed, there wasn't a way he could dispute the claim yet. "And how is it that you came to meet Harry, here?"

"Well, just a few months ago, I was a lucky chosen one to take a DNA test as a result of a competition on the isle, but I found out I had relatives I wasn't quite aware of, a Potter family. Unfortunately, the only living relative with any connection, was Petunia Evans, my granddaughter. I came inland to learn more about this mysterious side of my family, only to realize they weren't very good people, locking up poor Harry here! They were packing, said something about leaving the country, now that Harry was 16. Well, the poor bugger had nowhere to go! I took him back home with me, and here we are!"

Harry hid his surprise at Tom's unusually impeccable acting, even down to the mannerisms, shaking his hand when he mentioned his Aunt.

Ignoring the fact that Tom said he'd been abused at the Dursley's, Dumbledore plowed on in his suspicion. "And how is it that you're aware of magic?"

"What is it, twenty questions?" Tom asked, laughing, "but if you must know, my friend, I was involved in a magical incident around 10 years ago here in England, but I wasn't Obliviated by the authorities - a mistake on your end, I presume-" Dumbledore's eye twitched at the jab, but he didn't blink otherwise "- and ever since that day, I made it my mission to find out everything I could. A good job too, since Harry here is a wizard!" He clapped Harry on the shoulder with a shaky hand, grinning as if he was madly proud of that fact.

Dumbledore nodded, seeming to accept that answer. "So you are a Muggle?"

"Oh yes," Tom replied, nodding his head, "one of the unfortunate to not be born magical, I'm afraid!" They'd taken extensive measures to hide Tom's magical core, using a few illegal spells in the process, to ensure no exam could reveal the fact that he did indeed have magic.

"Well, I'm very glad you took our boy in, Tom," Dumbledore said, through gritted teeth. "Harry, my boy, why didn't you tell us?"

"I'm really sorry professor," he said, looking to the ground, "there were no owls on the island and no time. We've had a lot to do this summer, what with the livestock and the crops. I assumed you wouldn't think anything of it."

"Well, no matter now," Dumbledore replied jovially, patting Harry's other shoulder.

He fought the urge to slap it away and instead smiled in reply.

"Perhaps we should sit somewhere and discuss this a little more," Dumbledore said, looking around at the Aurors. "You may tell everyone the good news that Harry has returned, alive and well!"

The Aurors slowly dissipated, presumably leaving to tell the Daily Prophet and other such rags that Harry was back.

Harry slowly led Dumbledore and Tom to Fortescues Ice Cream Parlour, 'helping' Tom sit down at the bench outside before sitting next to him. Dumbledore sat across from them.

"Harry, if I may ask, where are your glasses?"

"Oh!" Harry replied as if he'd just remembered, "Tom knows some really good healers, they healed practically everything!"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, before pulling out his wand. "If I may?"

Harry nodded, ignoring the hand tightening around his arm. They'd prepared for this, for Dumbledore to see the lack of blocks on his memories and his magic. If he asked about them, it'd imply he knew and on the off-chance Harry didn't, it'd reveal what he'd been doing.

As he performed the scan, Dumbledore paled greatly, mouth dropping open. Well, that's it, cats out of the bag now.

He made direct eye contact with Harry, who didn't look away, presenting pure trust and unawareness, the familiar intrusion of Legilimency now present. When Dumbledore inevitably found the wall in Harry's mind, he paled even further, if that was possible, dropping his wand to the table in between them.

"W-well," he said, shakily, "you're right, you're completely healthy. You must know some special healers," he said, directing the last part to Tom, who nodded, pretending to completely oblivious.

"Oh, aye! The isle is filled with people of all kinds!" 

"Voldemort's been quiet this summer," Dumbledore suddenly said, looking at Harry intently, who merely blinked back at him.

"Nothing at all?"

Dumbledore shook his head, looking very grave and ashen. "I fear what this means for our future. He tried to take you after you left Privet Drive, murdering Tonks before ripping the wards down. He's probably been looking for you too. Don't you see, Harry? You were in great danger."

Harry blushed, looking down again. "I'm sorry professor, I didn't know Tonks was dead... I really thought I was safe though! I wasn't even in England anymore!"

"Be that as it may, I would like you to return to Grimmauld Place for the remainder of the summer, just to be sure."

"I'm sorry professor, but I can't do that! I have to stay with Tom until I leave for Hogwarts, at which point, he'll be moving to a hotel on the island. I can't leave him alone!"

Dumbledore looked pained when Harry replied, clearly sensing how Harry was slipping between his fingers, like fine sand in an hourglass.

"Ron and Hermione miss you." he tried, in a last attempt, "and Ginevra. They'll want to see you, now that they know you're okay."

Harry smiled, hiding the pure hatred he felt at hearing those names. "It's okay professor, I'll see them on the train! It's only a week away.

Conceded, Dumbledore nodded and sighed. "Well, I cannot force you to come with me. I hope you enjoy the rest of your summer and I look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts."

"You too, professor!" Harry replied, politely. He watched Dumbledore walk away and disappear behind a corner before slumping in his seat.

"Thank god for that," he muttered under his breath, "shall we go home?"

Tom nodded, standing slowly, reaching out for Harry's arm. "Yes, let's. I'm eager for better company," he said, dryly.

With that, they made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron, Flooing back to the Manor with their purchases in hand.

-x-

A week later and it was the night before Harry would have to return to Hogwarts. To say goodbye, the group within the Manor had gathered in one of the rooms filled with couches, taking what comfort they could from each other before Draco and Harry left tomorrow.

Even Dolohov and Rookwood joined in, although they were still a little quiet.

Harry had to admit, he'd grown close to this ragtag group of idiots in the last two weeks; he and Draco often spent breaks together, becoming fast friends and bonding over anything and everything, Lucius and Narcissa had easily accepted him into the fold when they realized he wasn't the spoilt little brat they thought he'd been too. Bella, Rodolphus and Rabastan had basically adopted him (and even though he complained about their ridiculous terms of endearment and need to be around Harry, ruffling his hair or patting his back or in one instance, throwing him over their shoulder, he knew he'd miss it, really), treating him like one of their own. He frequently played chess or Gobstones with Dolohov or Rookwood, enjoying the peace and quiet they brought.

Most of all though, he'd miss Tom, even with his unfunny quips and tendency to slip into the bed when he was asleep, leaving before he woke up, never mentioning it. Maybe it was the fact that some of his literal soul resided within Harry, but he genuinely felt close to the man.

When Harry managed to erect his own Occluding wall in his head, Tom excitedly tugged Harry into a hug, crushing him with his treetrunk arms, laughing loudly. Harry never felt safer than when he was near Tom, honestly.

That aside, they were all sat in a circle, talking comfortably to each other, sharing funny stories or wisdom. Harry hoped, deep down, that they'd be able to do this again, maybe at Christmas or one weekend in between.

This group of people had somehow become his family in the time he'd spent at the Manor and he didn't want to leave. He knew he had to, of course, but he'd miss them so much.

He looked around the circle at each one, committing their faces and demeanours to his memory - Rabastan and Rodolphus playfighting in the corner, Narcissa and Bellatrix clutching their chests simultaneously and roaring with laughter, Draco and Lucius sharing a couch next to them, Dolohov and Rookwood listening with one ear and talking quietly amongst themselves and finally Tom. He was sat on the same couch as Harry, with Harry's feet on his lap, hand curled around his ankles. Harry himself lounged across the entirety of the couch, encroaching into Tom's space without a care in the world. Of course, he'd see these people again, Draco and Dolohov included whilst at Hogwarts, but that future meeting might end up on a battlefield instead of sat around a table, sharing drinks (non-alcoholic, Tom had insisted) and happy memories. It was _bittersweet_ , really.

He tuned back in to hear Lucius and Narcissa sharing a story from Draco's childhood about his beloved stuffed dragon named Pachua, who went everywhere with Draco until he turned 10. Draco was blushing madly, head in his hands, jokingly pushing Lucius' hand away when it went to tug his hands away from his face.

Harry laughed when he saw, sipping his drink, basking in the warmth.

-x-

Much later that night, the group disbanded, returning to their own rooms to sleep. Tom and Harry went the same way, shutting the door behind themselves, removing their outer clothing and collapsed onto the bed.

"I'm gonna miss this," Harry admitted, in the quietness of the room.

Tom reached out a hand, pulling Harry into his side. "I know, but you'll see them again," he said, quietly, as if to not disturb the atmosphere.

"I'm tired," Harry said, not in reference to sleep though.

"Me too," Tom whispered back, "but it won't last forever. We'll get to rest one day, when all of this is over and there is no one left to fight, when we can live comfortably and in peace."

Harry nodded, resting his head in the nook of Tom's neck. "I hope so," he replied, sleepily.

"It's gonna be okay Harry, I promise. It's gonna be okay."

With that, Harry and Tom drifted off into sleep, ready for the events that tomorrow would bring.


	14. chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is even smaller than the last one, but my brain just isn't computing today. had a few phone calls from college about missed homework too. :/ ah well, Harry's back at Hogwarts!!
> 
> anyway, Fun Fact of the day; i named my pure white, slightly-deaf/slightly-blind rabbit after Luna. :) she's a goblin and i love her very much.

"I'll always be available to talk, Harry. No matter the time or situation."

Harry nodded, shoving robes and books and parchment and quills into his new trunk, glancing at Tom stood to the side.

"I'm serious, Harry. I don't care what it's about either, you won't be bothering me. Use the mind connection or get Dolohov to contact me."

"It's okay Tom, I'll be okay," Harry reassured, closing the trunk and tapping it with his wand, locking it with his magical signature.

Tom stared at Harry intently for a moment, before reaching out a hand. Harry took it, allowing Tom to pull him upright before crushing him into a breathtaking hug.

"I know you will be, but I'll still worry. Bella will too, and the rest of them."

Harry laughed at the image, but nodded into Tom's chest, gripping the other tightly.

"If I need you, I'll let you know, I promise."

Tom pulled Harry away from his chest to look him in his eyes, searching for _something_ , before nodding.

"Alright, c'mon, Bella wants to say goodbye before we leave." Tom picked up his trunk, showing Harry how to shrink it before passing it over for Harry to put in his pocket.

With that, Harry looked around the room, almost in sadness. It'd only been his _and Tom's_ bedroom for a month but he'd miss the silence and comfort it brought, resigned to his fate of having to share a room with 3 other boys again.

He shut the door behind him and Tom, letting Tom put an arm over his shoulder and lead him to the front doors; they were going to Portkey to London this time, in case the Floos were being monitored for Harry's arrival or even for the safety of other students.

As they walked, Harry fondly remembered the last time he'd used these doors - the first day he arrived at Riddle Manor, after apparating with Tom. He hadn't stepped through them since.

At the front door, a congregation of people was awaiting Harry's arrival eagerly.

"Harry!" He heard Bella shout, and disengaging from Tom's arm over his shoulder, he ran up to her, hugging her as tightly as he could. She hugged him back equally tight, running a hand through the hair at the back of his head.

"Thanks, mum," he whispered, burying his head into her neck, hiding his tears.

"Be safe," she whispered back, before pulling him away again, kissing his forehead with tears in her eyes and turning to hug her husband.

Rod and Rabastan put a hand on each of his shoulders, grinning at him.

"Stay safe, little one," Rod said, both of them squeezing his shoulders in tandem. He nodded, grinning back.

Narcissa pulled him into a hug too, whilst Lucius wrapped a hand around the back of his neck.

"We'll be right behind you," Lucius said, pulling his wife away.

Harry turned to Draco. They looked at each other for a long moment before pulling each other into a tight hug, nearly knocking each other over. "It'll be okay Harry," Draco said, "we'll see each other every day. Don't forget to keep the insults up, wouldn't want anyone thinking we've gone soft, right Potter?"

"Of course not, Malfoy," Harry replied, cheekily, pulling away from the hug.

Rookwood put a hand on his shoulder and another on his neck, looking into his eyes. "We're on your side Harry, remember that." Harry nodded, stepping away.

Dolohov wasn't here, but he'd said his goodbyes earlier this morning before leaving to Hogwarts as a professor, getting reading for the Welcoming Feast.

With that done, he went and stood by Tom's side again, watching as the glamour reformed over his body. Any other time, it'd be funny, but now it felt a little sad that this was necessary. Nevertheless, he grabbed Tom's arm tight, looking around at the group, allowing a few tears to slip out.

"Thank you so much," he said, "for being my saviours, my family, and the reason I am still here today."

Bella broke down into sobs, pulling Rodolphus closer, smiling at Hary the best she could.

"Ready?" Tom asked, Portkey in hand.

"Ready," Harry replied, taking a deep breath.

"Lacus," Tom said, and suddenly, the pair were being whisked away in a swirl of colour and wind.

-x-

They appeared on platform 9¾ mere seconds later, right in the middle of a bustling crowd, the fire engine red Hogwarts Express in front of them. Harry looked around for a moment, basking in the atmosphere before turning to Tom.

For the second time in less than 15 minutes, he felt himself begin to cry again.

Tom gazed at him for a moment, before hugging him close.

"Good luck," he whispered, "and be brave. We're only a Portkey away." When he said that, he slipped a small key into Harry's hand. "The word 'domum' will take you straight to Riddle Manor if you should ever need to use it."

Harry nodded, gripping the key tight, searing the word into his memory.

"Thank you," Harry replied, before pulling away and boarding the train. He quickly found an empty compartment along the corridor of the train, shutting and locking it behind himself before yanking the blinds open. Tom was still stood on the platform, looking down the train, before making eye contact with Harry and smiling.

Harry returned it, wiping away a few tears at the same time, heart clenching when he saw Tom disappear again in a flurry of windswept leaves and blurred colour.

With that, he sat down heavily, alone for the first time since the beginning of summer.

He looked down at the gold ornate key clenched in his fist, noting the leather necklace tied to it. He slipped it over his head and tucked it under his clothes, placing a hand over it, knowing he had somewhere to go if he needed it.

-x-

Around half an hour later, Harry nearly began dozing on the seat when he heard a sharp knock on the glass door.

He slowly opened his eyes and rubbed them, only to see Weasley and Granger stood at the door, looking furious.

'Open the door!' Granger mouthed, pointing to the lock.

He rolled his eyes before childishly sticking up his middle finger, pulling the blinds down on the door and shutting his eyes again. The knocking became more insistent, but Harry really didn't care. A few days ago, he'd made his mind up to just ignore them entirely, not rising to any bait they tried to give him to goad him into being their friend again. He'd rather be dead than seen with them, honestly. The only people he'd accept into his compartment right now would be Luna, Neville and Draco, but the latter was impossible for now. They weren't supposed to be friends, unfortunately.

The knocking died down eventually and Harry sighed in relief, glad the compartments were sound-proof to a degree.

Another half an hour later, the train finally started, chugging its way to Hogwarts through forests, fields and small villages. Throughout it all, Harry fell in and out of sleep, already feeling a heavy darkness fighting its way into his head.

He knew he'd changed in the last month, not only physically but mentally too. He knew he was a little colder and meaner, a little more cynical and glass-half-empty. He supposed torturing his last living relatives didn't help at all. He still didn't know if they were dead or alive, too afraid to ask. Was he supposed to be sad that they were dead, instead of joyous at the fact that they couldn't hurt him anymore? Did it make him even eviler if he said that he wanted them dead, glad they suffered in Bellatrix's loving hands? He ignored those thoughts entirely, realizing the familiar landmarks as they got closer to Hogwarts.

He unshrank his trunk, pulling out his Hogwarts robes and changed quickly, tucking his wand away again. He shrunk his trunk again, slipping it into a pocket, not wanting it to mix with everyone else's in case they were being searched and he didn't want everyone to find out about the dark and most definitely illegal books from the Riddle Library in there.

Soon enough, the train was coming to a stop and night was falling quickly. He pulled the blinds up on the door, watching as familiar students filed out of the compartments and off the train.

He spotted Granger and Weasley pretty quickly, both of them adorned with sparkly new Prefects badges.

He saw Draco too, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle and two others he didn't really know, but he was pretty sure the girl was the daughter of Death Eaters.

Eventually, he spotted Luna and Neville too and he released a breath he didn't know he was holding. Ever since learning that they were given the same treatment as he was, he worried for their safety. They weren't part of influential families either, so their disappearance would go unseen. He was glad to see they were okay though and slid his door open, seamlessly joining them.

"Hello Harry," Neville said, less exuberant than he had been in the past, but nevertheless pleased to see him. "Good summer?"

Harry nodded, smiling, patting him on the shoulder. "Yeah, thanks Neville. What about you?"

"I stayed with my gran again, plenty of gardening and the like."

"And what about you, Luna?"

Luna, as dreamily and fantastical as ever, said, "I was hunting Dabberblimps with my father."

Harry stopped for a moment, before shaking his head and moving on. Typical Luna, honestly.

They boarded the carriage together in a trio, marveling at the Thestrals pulling it. They fell into a comfortable silence. Harry desperately wanted to ask them if they knew, if they _remembered_ , thinking that maybe they could break the blocks like Sirius did, but he refrained, knowing it wasn't the time or place to test it.

"Hey, you look good with no glasses," Neville said, and Harry smiled in thanks.

"Extensive healing, thankfully," he replied, "on this weird island..."

He'd tell them the truth one day. Hopefully.

-x-

It didn't take long for the coaches to arrive at Hogwarts' main entrance, with professor McGonagall stood on the steps. Her face was pinched, as per the normal, and Harry remembered he didn't actually know whose side she'd be on these days. Best be neutral with the rest of the teachers, just in case.

The students stepped out of the carriages one by one, entering the hall and dispersing to their respective tables. The ceiling above showed a night sky, reflecting that of the one outside.

He and Neville said goodbye to Luna and watched as she walked to the Ravenclaw table. They sat together at the Gryffindor table, strategically placing themselves so that neither Ron nor Hermione could sit near them. Neville, when Harry explained that he wanted to leave the widely named Golden Trio, had been exceedingly understanding.

Harry spotted Draco across the hall, nodding to him minutely.

Then finally, he looked up to the Teachers table. He immediately spotted Dumbledore as he was staring right at him and so he stared back, unflinching.

Snape was next, sat a few seats down from Dumbledore, also staring at Harry with something akin to shock, horror and fear. He smiled slightly, enjoying the mental duress the poor bastard must be under. The last person he'd expect to see today was _Harry_ , who he last saw kneeling by the Dark Lord's feet. When he saw Harry's smile, Snape perhaps paled even further, finally taking his eyes away to look at Slytherin table. Draco, too, was acting normal, as if nothing had ever happened. Surely he would grow suspicious soon.

Dolohov wasn't seated at the table yet, probably waiting for Dumbledore to introduce him after the Sorting. Snape would have a heart attack then too, since they were both in the inner circle.

Tom went to great lengths to remove Dolohov's dark mark, altering his appearance just enough that if Snape were to go to Dumbledore under the claims of Dolohov being a Death Eater, there wasn't actually any proof. He was merely aloof and quiet, not a _murderer_ , Harry thought, ironically.

He didn't really care for anyone else at the table this year, looking down the Gryffindor table to see Granger and Weasley looking at him with betrayal and anger in their eyes. He, feeling spiteful, swore at them again, pretending to not see Granger's crocodile tears and Weasley's glare. He wrapped an arm around Granger, leading her to a seat far away from him. Good riddance.

"They deserve each other," Neville said under his breath, venomous, surprising Harry. When was Neville ever holding a grudge against them? He nodded though, noting that everyone had finally sat down.

Mere seconds later, the doors opened and McGonagall stepped through, the little first years following close behind. Every year, there were less and less students arriving at Hogwarts. It wasn't surprising, with the number of incidents under Hogwarts' belt. The only ones remaining were probably offspring of previous students that couldn't quite let go.

The Sorting passed quickly, going by in a blur. Harry spent it staring at the table in front of him, just barely clapping when Gryffindor got a new house member.

When the Sorting was over, Harry finally tuned back into the noise in the hall, knowing what came next; Dolohov's introduction.

"Good evening, students," Dumbledore began his speech, "welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Before we begin our feast, I would like to take this opportunity to introduce your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor!"

The hall began clapping and cheering, probably more exuberant than normal after the shitshow of Umbridge last year.

"I would like to welcome professor Hemlock to our staff." When he spoke, a side door opened and Dolohov stepped out, looking fresh in his new robes, slicked back hair and glasses with fake lenses. Instantly, Harry heard a few girls around him swoon, and sure, he could appreciate that Dolohov was pretty attractive in regard to social conventions, but did they really think he lusted after their pre-pubescent bodies and immature personalities?

His eyes darted to the Slytherin table first, noting a few looking a little surprised but if they recognized him, they schooled their emotions relatively well. Then he look at Snape and watched as his last remaining hope withered right before his eyes, slumping down in his seat. Reality was probably setting in; things in Hogwarts would be changing from now on and he had no control over what would happen.

The roars and cheers around the hall slowly died down and Dolohov - professor Hemlock, Harry reminded himself - bowed lightly before sitting himself down just to the right of Dumbledore. He made sure to roll his sleeves up too, ensuring that Snape saw his lack of a dark mark, therefore erasing any evidence of his Death Eater status.

With that, Dumbledore clapped. "Let the feast begin!"

Masses amount of food appeared before their very eyes, ranging from delicious desserts to pastries and cakes, to regular food like beef and chicken, veggies and the like. Normally at the welcoming feast, Harry would dive for the sweet food first, gorging himself after a summer of starvation, eventually leading to himself getting a stomach ache and regretting it. After a month of healthy food though, he knew better and prided himself on his new discipline.

He piled his plate with veggies and meats, pouring a little bit of gravy on and foregoing dessert entirely. He wasn't about to let all that hard work in gaining muscle go to waste in one night. He watched as Neville gathered healthy foods too, rolling his eyes when he saw Weasley immediately shovel cake into his gob.

Harry ate slowly, basking in the cool atmosphere. Even though he was going to miss Riddle Manor, he knew he loved Hogwarts still. It was a second home, filled with magic and pureness.

Chatter slowly filled the air as the meal progressed. Throughout, Harry felt multiple attempts of Legilimency on his mind, each one retreating as soon as they hit the block in his mind. It was a mix of his own and Tom's, the latter of which would eventually fall but by then, he'd hopefully be able to put up his own of equal strength.

The rest of the feast passed in relative silence, with the odd word exchanged with Neville and a few housemates around him. Most were asking what happened during summer, but he gave them all the same basic answer - 'I don't know what you mean, I was at my grandfather's house.' The conversation ended quickly after that, with Harry turning back to his food and ignoring anything else he was asked.

Towards the end of the meal, McGonagall approached him asking if he was okay, to which he replied the affirmative. She stared for a moment, taking in his appearance and demeanour, before nodding and walking off.

When everyone stood to leave the hall, he saw that Granger and Weasley wanted to approach him but were hindered by their new Prefect duties and instead were resigned to having to wait behind with the first years. Harry promptly left the hall, Neville by his side, taking his time walking to the tower.

"Harry, are you okay?" He heard Neville ask, hesitant but filled with concern.

Harry turned to look at him, confused. "Of course I am, why wouldn't I be?"

Neville shrugged, still concerned. "I don't know, you just seem a little different this year."

Harry raised his eyebrows, replying, "good different or bad different?"

He saw Neville think for a second before coming to a conclusion. "Good different, I think."

Harry broke out into laughter, slapping Neville's shoulder good-naturedly. "That's good to hear, Nev," he replied, entering the Gryffindor common room with everyone else and immediately going up to his room. Thankfully, Neville was situated between Harry and Weasley, as per the norm, meaning Weasley wouldn't get very many chances to ask him questions at night.

He pulled the trunk out from his pocket, tucking it into the back of the bedside drawer and casting a strong locking charm on it. They might not be able to get into it, as shrunken and locked as it is, but he didn't want it stolen any time soon either.

"I think I'll go to bed a little early tonight," Harry said lowly to Neville, who nodded and smiled.

"No worries, I'll let the prefects know you felt sick and went to bed early. See you in the morning," he said, taking his leave.

"Thanks Nev," Harry replied, before disrobing and getting into his pajamas, slipping under the covers and drawing the curtains shut. He stuck them together with another powerful charm, ensuring they were muffling the noises that may come from outside before setting an alarm for the next morning. With that, he slipped his wand under his pillow, leaving a few fingers touching it. He ignored how much he missed the bedroom in Riddle Manor and how much he yearned to not be alone. The coldness grew again inside him but he tampered it down, falling into an interrupted and fitful sleep.


	15. chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we reached 50,000 words! yay! when i started this fic, i was intending to have the end at around 50k words but i don't even think i'm half way through. 
> 
> anyway, i hope everyone's okay! much love to everyone still reading this shitshow. <333

Morning came far too quickly for Harry, the little alarm clock blaring loudly in his ear. He'd slept awfully last night, switching between homesick and nervous for tomorrow. For all his confidence in front of Weasley and Granger yesterday, he was actually pretty scared to face them again. They'd been his friends for nearly 5 years, so suddenly switching to hating everything about them was a big jump. He thought he'd cope well before reaching Hogwarts but once there, all he could think about was how every moment spent together was false and he didn't really have any good memories anymore. He'd mentioned it to Bella in passing, but she just pulled him into a hug, kissed his forehead and said,

"Well, I guess it's time to make new ones, then."

He sighed, sitting up and unsticking the curtains, tugging them open. He'd woken up earlier than the rest of the boys in the room would, just to make sure he wouldn't have to make small talk with them.

He dressed quickly, foregoing his robes for now, creeping out of the room and through the common room. There was only one or two people awake for now, but they seemed engrossed in homework, even at the early time of 6.30am on the first day of the year. Probably unfinished summer homework, but Harry couldn't relate; he'd finished his sat in Tom's bedroom, trying to not find ways to kill himself out of boredom. He left Gryffindor tower entirely, making his way outside and towards the lake.

Fog rested on top, even some frost on top in areas and Harry suddenly remembered how it was early September in Scotland, regretting not bringing a coat. He'd warm up soon though.

When he reached the lake edge, he broke out into a jog, sticking to the bank of the lake. He wasn't exactly bad at running, especially considering how much he ran from Dudley and his motley crew of idiots as a kid, but he wasn't as good as he wanted to be. Ah well, it was still early days.

He breathed deep as he ran, laughing when he saw a tentacle or two of the giant squid breach the surface. He slowed to a walk sometimes, giving his calf muscles a rest, before starting again. He made it about a quarter way around the lake without slowing but for the first time, he was pretty happy. He reached the starting point again when the fog began to clear a little and the air warmed up, where he stretched a bit like Rodolphus had taught him to before walking back to the castle.

On his way back, he looked up to the Headmasters tower to see Dumbledore watching from a window. He wasn't actually surprised, but it felt eerie to be watching constantly.

Nevertheless, he waved joyfully, feeling more human after the run. He walked back to Gryffindor tower, passing a few more people on the way, but none he stopped to chat with. In Gryffindor tower, he spotted Hermione sat in a corner, leaping out of her seat when she saw Harry but he legged it up the stairs to his dorm, practically shutting the door in her face. He shook his head, expecting this level of insistence from them but annoyed anyway.

Harry smiled at Neville when he saw him getting ready, but bypassed everyone else and went into the attached bathroom, showering quickly.

When he left the bathroom, the room was empty and he took the chance to unshrink his trunk, pull out the robes for today before shrinking it again and hiding it away. He dressed again, grabbing his new bag of quills, parchment and books before making his way down the stairs to the common room, leaving through the portrait.

He nodded at the Weasley twins on his way and they nodded back. He wasn't sure what to say them, especially if they were as bad as Granger and Weasley, but he'd had no missed memories of them so for now, he was content to say they were neutral in this.

Before entering the great hall, he saw Dolohov coming from another direction and nodded, giving him a small smile.

"Good morning, professor Hemlock," he said, entering the hall. Dolohov nodded in reply, walking to the head table.

Harry found Neville relatively quick, sitting down next to him and pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice. It tasted piss poor really, but orange juice just after brushing your teeth was even worse, in his opinion.

"Morning," he greeted Neville, nibbling on some toast and fruit for breakfast.

"Morning Harry," he replied, as jovial as ever.

Students were pouring into the hall slowly, even the scared first years, who sat at the very end of the table until they made friends.

When the hall was almost full, owls began swooping in, dropping off the Daily Prophet and small parcels, probably filled with things the students forgot to bring.

Harry heard Hedwig before he saw her, the familiar hoot and caws of his beautiful beloved friend. He stuck his arm out, pleased when she landed and accepted a little bit of bacon. There was a letter tied to her foot - another little plan that Tom thought of. To minimize luggage, he said he'd send Hedwig to Hogwarts on her own with a letter, supposedly from Thoman Evans. Harry knew his mail was being monitored by Dumbledore, although all mail probably was too, what with the Dark Lord about.

He opened the letter whilst petting Hedwig's head, feeling the stares from the head table. He was content to ignore them though, reading through the letter with a grin.

_**Harry,** _

_**How's things at Hogwarts?** _

_**Just thought I'd send Hedwig your way, so we can keep in touch and whatnot.** _

_**-Tom** _

It was short and sweet, revealing nothing of importance at all but Harry knew it would help solidify the idea that Thomas Evans actually existed in Dumbledore's mind.

He folded the letter up, releasing Hedwig so she could return to Hogwarts Owlery, finally looking up to the head table.

He saw both Dumbledore and Snape gazing at him and he made eye contact with both of them, smiling brightly, before continuing with his breakfast. Realistically, it was none of their business, even though they'd definitely read his mail.

Soon enough, McGonagall came around with their timetables, passing them over. Harry looked over his briefly, noting that he had Charms first, followed by Transfiguration, then lunch, then Defense Against the Dark Arts and the Potions. Not too bad, but Potions last would be a ball ache. At least he could partner up with Neville and leave Granger and Weasley to each other if it came down to that.

He showed Neville, standing up and taking his leave, once again ignoring the shouts of Weasley and Granger behind him with a roll of his eyes. He made his way to the Charms classroom, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, trying his best to give off the vibe of, 'I don't want to be interrupted.' It worked, thankfully, and no one approached him as the line began to grow. 

Well, it worked till he heard the familiar drawl of a particularly blond fucker to his right.

"Well, well, well, Potter, what do we have here? And where's Weasel and Granger? They finally realized what a pathetic idiot you are?"

Internally, he fought down a laugh and smile, already noting the difference between his previous insults in the past and the new jibes, after they'd solidified their friendship. He opened his eyes slowly to see the rest of the 6th year Gryffindors staring at him, clearly waiting for a reply.

When he saw Granger and Weasley step forward, he stood upright and held out a hand to them.

"Shut up, you two." He didn't even need to look at them to see their shocked faces and gaping mouths. "Fuck off Malfoy, go back to your little cretins before I make you." He got in Draco's face, using his newfound height and build to 'intimidate' him.

Draco's eyes were smiling though and Harry knew he knew he was joking.

They were interrupted by the arrival of professor Flitwick, who stood off to one side.

"Glad to see you're well enough to continue your arguments with Mister Malfoy," he said, disappointed.

Harry looked down, sheepishly. "Sorry, professor Flitwick."

The professor merely looked between them with his beady eyes, humming, before nodding and entering the classroom, gesturing for them to follow. On the way in, Gryffindor stared at Harry with something akin to horror and for once, Slytherin ignored him entirely. Well, that was certainly new. Maybe Malfoy said something.

Either way, the rest of Charms passed without incident. Well, mostly. As they left, Granger and Weasley tried to corner him but he swiftly walked away, swinging an arm across Neville's shoulders and leading them both to Transfiguration. Thankfully, Neville didn't question it, allowing himself to be dragged here, there and everywhere.

Transfiguration went the same way as Charms and lunch passed the same way as breakfast. All in all, it was an extremely relaxing day. Harry was picking up the spells better, as Tom said he would, faster than Granger did actually. When Granger saw that, instead of giving him the usual tearful glances, it was a glare filled with pure hatred. Harry smirked at her, shaking his head.

Defense Against the Dark Arts is where the day would truly become interesting; Dolohov will have already taught two classes in the morning so maybe he'd settled in a bit, but if the whispered rumours at lunch were true, he was a pretty harsh but quiet teacher.

They lined up outside the classroom, talking quietly amongst themselves when the door slammed open.

They filed in quietly, most of them curious as to how it would go. It must be better than last year though, better than reading spells in books and never getting the chance to practice them.

Harry and Neville sat together towards the front, watching as Dolohov raised from his seat behind the desk.

"Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. As you are aware, I am professor Hemlock." His deadpan voice made Harry roll his eyes, but from the man that took chess seriously, he expected nothing less, really.

"From what I've heard, your last year with Defense wasn't very practical so I am hoping to change that this year, starting with shields and how to increase their strength. Stand up, push your desks to the side of the room and form two even-number lines - those comfortable with casting shields against someone more comfortable casting the Incarcerous spell."

"If it's okay with you Harry, I'd like to be the one casting the Incarcerous."

Harry smiled, patting him on the back, proud of his confidence in being comfortable enough to ask instead of just going with the flow. Maybe they'd all changed a little bit, this summer.

"Of course, Neville!" Harry went over and stood with those casting the shields.

"Alright, now that you have formed your lines, the ones casting your Protego shield must protect yourselves from your partners Incarcerous. You will probably not get it this time, but if you do, know that I will be very impressed."

Maybe it was the gruff voice and intimidating appearance, Harry reasoned, that made nearly all of the class jump to a readied position. He shrugged to himself, knowing he'd be able to block Neville's spell, especially after practicing with Rodolphus for the last few weeks.

Soon, the room filled with spell after spell, either ricocheting off shields or breaking through them, binding those on the defense in thick ropes. After everyone had tried it once, with only two people managing to deflect the spell - Harry and Hermione, of course - Dolohov stepped in again.

"This time, I want those casting the Protego to imagine a great wall in your mind, made of thick, strong material. Envision the wall in front of you, see it stop the spell being thrown your way physically."

A few were confused but did as he said, closing their eyes for a few seconds before slowly opening them again. This time, when the spells flew across the room, more than half of the class managed to deflect the ropes coming their way. A cheer broke out amongst those that achieved it, peers turning to each other in happiness.

"Keep trying," Dolohov shouted above the din, "until each and every one of you manages to block it. Then, switch sides."

It didn't take long for everyone to achieve a strong Protego shield and swap sides with their partners, thankfully.

"Alright Nev, remember what he said?"

Neville nodded, looking a little nervous, but Harry gave him his best grin, firing off the Incarcerous spell. It broke through pretty easily, unfortunately, but to Harry, something looked a bit off with Neville's casting.

Having a spur-of-the-moment thought, he walked over, grabbing Neville's wand and putting his own in his hand.

"Try that for a minute," he said. Neville looked confused but did as he asked.

Instead of actually using Neville's wand, he just made sure it looked like he did, using wandless magic to cast the Incarcerous spell instead. As much as he loved using wandless magic, it was risky with other people around because then they'd want to know how to use it and be ultimately saddened when they learn they probably won't be able to for a long time.

His idea with the wands seemed to work, though, and this time, Neville's Protego shield remained strong, the ropes crashing to the floor just in front of his.

Harry looked down at Neville's wand in confusion. If he could use Harry's but not his own, what went wrong?

Neville joined Harry in staring at his own wand with something akin to betrayal and anger.

"It's never really worked for me, Harry, don't worry about it, yeah?"

Still confused, Harry nodded, swapping wands again before joining the group of people that had managed to complete it. In his mind, Harry was still trying to work out what was wrong with Neville's wand. Was it not his own? is it broken? It can't be something with his own magic, otherwise Harry's wand would never work. Why, then, when he cast the spell, did the wand seem to refuse to cast it?

He made mental note to ask Tom about it, before leaving the thought for a moment and making small talk with his peers. Soon enough, everyone in the class managed to complete the task and they drug their benches and desks back to their original positions, sitting down. Dolohov returned to the front of the classroom again, leaning against his desk.

"Magic is more sentient and powerful than you may believe. Through envisioning what you truly wanted to happen, your magic allowed that thought to be real. Now, of course, this won't work for everything, but why then, can spells be created to this day? Magic can do anything and everything you could put your mind to, but some things may be more difficult than others. Intention, however, is key. I can transfigure that quill into a rat, simply because I want it to happen. Truly, there is no difference between Dark and Light magic; in the end, it is all magic with intention. Light spells can be just as lethal as dark spells, whilst Dark spells can be used to help or heal. It depends on how you utilize these spells."

With his explanation, Harry saw many confused faces, with some others taking notes or listening with rapt attention. Granger and Weasley in particular looked a cross between livid and bewildered, as if they wanted to argue his point. Granger raised her hand, clearly burning with the need to ask a question.

When Dolohov nodded at her, she practically shouted her question at him. "What about the Unforgivable Curses?"

"Well, the Killing Curse used to be used as a method of euthanasia in animals and humans, especially those in great amounts of unhealable or permanent pain. The Imperius curse was used to prevent humans from killing another or themselves through sheer will and determination. The Cruciatus Curse, however, is the one exception. That curse brings about nothing but pain, although some say it is efficient at snapping people out of the Imperius Curse. However, these curses were created with nothing but Dark intent and as such, you need Dark intentions to cast them."

Dolohov would know, Harry supposed, what with being a follower of the Dark Lord. He laughed a bit on the inside, forgetting that technically, he was a follower too, although a lot had changed in the past few months.

Granger actually looked a little bit surprised with his answer, as if she hadn't thought of it from that point of view before. It was normal though; most didn't see how such things like the Knockback jinx, typically seen as the dark arts, can be used in modern day life or the Revulsion jinx forcing people to drop dangerous objects. They were technically minor dark arts, but still within the parameters of Dark.

With that, the lesson was over and the students left the classroom, hopefully with a somewhat new perspective on magic than the one they'd been brainwashed with since birth.

Harry was rather sad for the lesson to have ended, knowing what came next; Potions. They walked quickly to the labs in the dungeons, determined to not be late and give Snape any chance to give him shit.

When Snape arrived, it was with a flurry of black cloak and typical obsidian glare. Harry ignored him entirely, knowing he was safe from the bullying. Surely Snape wouldn't dare say anything to him after seeing his at Riddle Manor during summer, right?

_Wrong_.

The first thing he said when Harry sat down, was, "Well, well, Potter. Nice of you to rejoin the land of the living. Shame we can't say the same for your mutt friend."

It was growled low in Harry's ear, probably so no one around him could hear, but all Harry saw was red. He wanted so badly to hurt Snape, cast the Cruciatus curse on him or something, maybe even kill him the good old muggle way and throw a chair at his head. He refrained though, merely staring back at Snape, giving him nothing at all.

He was better than rising to that pathetic bait.

Fortunately, Potions this year seemed to be with Hufflepuff, a house that Harry had no problems at all with. Well, some of them still blamed him for Cedric's death, but he knew now that it wasn't his fault. Tom had made sure he knew that.

Potions was pretty easy actually, with Harry having already made the potion in the last few weeks with Lucius and Draco so he helped Neville through his when Snape wasn't looking. It wasn't often that Snape looked away, unfortunately, but he managed to help Neville create an almost perfect potion. Really, he wasn't all that bad at Potions; he knew the ingredients in and out with how well he excelled in Herbology, but his lack of confidence completely fucked him over. It didn't help that Snape rarely looked away from Harry, he guessed.

When the lesson was finally over, Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair - which desperately needed cutting soon, it was growing past his ears again. Tom mentioned being able to cut his own so he deigned to ask him about it, when he inevitably told him what an absolute _dick_ Snape had been.

What was with that, anyway? Did he suddenly come to the conclusion that Harry had joined the Dark side? Well, he wouldn't be wrong, but what if Harry wasn't actually Harry and he was the Dark Lord in disguise? In fact, what if Harry was dead and he was a mere figment of Snape's imagination? He never thought about _that_ did he, huh?

Harry knew he'd been in his head for too long when that thought occurred, slapping his own cheeks a bit to wake himself up. His lack of sleep definitely fucked him up a bit today but the day was nowhere near over. He hadn't even started looking for the Horcrux, his main reason for being back at Hogwarts.

He walked to the great hall with Neville for the third time of the day, secretly pleased when he saw Weasley and Granger look in his direction with confusion, but leave him alone. Maybe it was finally getting through their thick skull that he didn't want to be near them any longer. His life was being monitored by Dumbledore enough as it was, he didn't want to be feeding right into his palm by being a doormat and going back to those two idiots.

When he sat down at Gryffindor table, he dropped his head into his hands, yawning heavily, opening the mental connection with Tom. They hadn't tested it yet but there was no reason for it to not work at such long distance.

_'Tom, can you hear me?'_

Immediately, he felt relief coming from the other side and he already felt calmer. _'Harry,'_ came Tom's voice, _'how are you doing? I trust Hedwig reached you safely?'_

_'Yes, Hedwig is fine, thank you. I'm good too, a bit tired but good.'_

_'Did you not sleep last night?'_ The concern was quite sweet, actually.

_'I did, but not very well. I miss the beds at Riddle Manor,'_ he replied, allowing amusement feed through the mental connection.

_'Maybe you'll sleep better tonight,'_ Tom suggested, _'I can feel your exhaustion from here.'_

_'Oh, hush,'_ Harry said, mentally rolling his eyes at him, _'I'll start looking for the Horcrux when dinner's finished.'_

_'No,'_ Tom replied immediately, _'start tomorrow and rest tonight.'_

_'Are you sure?'_ Harry asked, hesitant. _'I don't mind at all.'_

_'I'm sure, rest and start looking tomorrow night instead. We don't want you collapsing from exhaustion.'_

_'Alright,'_ Harry replied, actually quite thankful. He didn't even know where to begin.

_'Keep in contact, the manor's lonely without you here.'_

With that parting statement, the mental connection broke. Harry raised his eyebrows at the quick ending, but opened his eyes again anyway, seeing Neville looking at him in concern.

"Are you sure you're alright, Harry?"

He gave Neville a tired smile and said, "I'm sure, thanks Nev, just a little tired."

Neville nodded. "You should eat something. I'm meeting up with Luna later if you want to join us?"

"Where are you going?" Harry asked, pulling some pasta onto his plate and eating it slowly.

"Just an empty classroom," he said, taking a drink from his goblet. "It's too cold to go to the greenhouses yet."

Harry privately agreed. "Alright, I'll come with you. I'll get changed out of my robes first though."

Dinner passed in relative silence after that, ending with Harry and Neville going back to Gryffindor tower to change into more casual clothing.

-x-

An hour later, they were walking towards an unused classroom in between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor dorms, talking quietly amongst themselves.

"What did you think of professor Hemlock's lesson?"

"I thought it was really interesting actually," Neville replied, "I hadn't thought of it that way."

Harry nodded, glad that he wasn't immediately dismissing down the idea of using the Dark Arts as he might use the Light Arts.

"I think he might actually be a good teacher this year."

Neville seemed to agree.

They turned a few corners to see Luna stood outside.

"Hey Luna," Harry greeted, "you don't mind me joining, do you?"

"Not at all," she replied. The door opened and the three went inside, casting spells to light the numerous candles around the room.

Harry, wanting to be comfortable, summoned a few blankets and pillows, placing them on the floor. Luna placed her own down, Neville following their lead.

"You got rid of your Wrackspurts, Harry?" Luna suddenly asked, staring just next to Harry's head.

Harry turned to look where she was but when he saw nothing, he turned back. "Uhm, I guess so," he replied, "what are they?"

"Creatures that float in your ears, making your brain all unfocused and confused. You don't have them anymore."

As she spoke, Harry's eyebrows steadily raised. Wrackspurts, huh? Maybe there _was_ some merit in what Luna was saying.

"Does, uh, does Neville have any Wrackspurts?" He asked, unsure as to whether this was the right way to go.

Luna nodded. "Lots. So do I." When she spoke, she looked Harry directly in the eyes, as if to convey something he couldn't quite understand. He titled his head. Does she know something he doesn't? Has she managed to break her memory blocks over the summer? He shook his head, making another mental note to ask Tom about it. Maybe it was time to change the subject, for now.

"So, anyone read anything good over summer?"

"Oh, I did! I read Winogrands Wondrous Water Plants throughout summer and..."

With that, Harry turned his focus to Neville. Maybe there was some hope with Neville and Luna after all.

-x-

A few hours later, the rounds for catching students out of bed would begin and so the three sixth years returned to their respective dorms. Hanging out with those two had the added benefit of not being cornered by Granger and Weasley yet too, at least till he figured out what to say to them when they did approach him and he was unable to escape.

Luna and Neville had been good company though, talking about anything and everything, although the happenings at the end of their fifth year weren't mentioned, even in passing. Harry wasn't sure whether to be grateful or wonder if they'd been made to forget entirely.

He fell into bed with more questions than ever, but even more determined to not only save his friends but ensure Dumbledore achieved the downfall he so greatly deserved in the end, by his and Tom's hands alone.


End file.
